Two Sides
by Cheryl W
Summary: There are two sides to every story. When a misunderstanding divides Sheppard's team while they are on leave on Earth, it's up to Beckett to get things straightened out between them. Set in Season 2. No slash
1. Sheppard Is a Snob

Two Sides

Author: Cheryl W.

Summary: There are two sides to every story. When a misunderstanding divides Sheppard's team while they are on leave on Earth, it's up to Beckett to get things straightened out between them. Set in Season 2.

Author's Note: Thanks again for the wonderful welcome into this fandom on my first fic. So here goes fic #2…it even has a plot!

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Chapter 1: Lt Colonel Sheppard is a snob

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The mess hall in Luke Airforce base, Arizona, USA, Earth was double the size of the mess hall in Atlantis and Rodney worried that Colonel Sheppard wouldn't find the table he, Ronon and Teyla occupied. He was busy keeping an eye out for him as he sampled the three deserts he had on his plate, ready to wave his friend over to take the seat they had reserved for him. Admid a bite of blueberry pie, he muttered, "Finally" as the wayward Colonel made his appearance in the hall. Rodney waited as Sheppard got his food in the mess line, while of course chatting up a beautiful brunette in front of him. At last Sheppard's eyes were scanning the hall for them so Rodney gave a wave. Then Sheppard was zigzagging his way across the hall toward them.

"Ah, here comes the Colonel," Teyla stated the obvious, her lips turning up into a smile of greeting at their teammate's approach.

Rodney opened his mouth to gripe what took the man so long to find the mess hall since he had bragged that he had the layout all memorized from the time he had been stationed there. However, the words died on Rodney's lips as Sheppard walked right by the table, didn't even acknowledge them and the open chair designated for him. Instead, Sheppard called to a man sporting an Air Force pilot's jacket a few tables beyond the Atlantis team.

"Winston!?" the Colonel's call incited the man to turn around and offer a huge startled smile to John. Sheppard numbly put his tray down on the nearest table and approached the pilot. Then, as the Atlantis team watched, John and the so named Winston dove into a fierce bear hug with Winston picking John up off the ground. There was an even more uproarious reunion as two other pilots joined in hugging John.

Teyla smiled as she watched the four men, glad that someone apparently valued John as she and the Atlantis personnel did, were showing John that they had missed him. She noted that Rodney and Ronon were also watching the exchange with amusement. It was unusual seeing John so gregarious when he seemed reluctant or unable to express his feelings when it came to them. In her memory, she didn't think she had ever witnessed John giving anyone a hug before, receiving hugs and her forehead to forehead show of respect yes but this unabashed affection was something new. She fought down a pang of jealousy that John remained so reserved with them. It had taken more than a year before the Colonel said she could call him by his first name and that only came up when he was suffering the effects of the retrovirus.

For Ronon, it was good to see Sheppard like this, less guarded, enjoying the company of his friends. It reminded him of his companionship with his fellow soldiers on Satedan. There were always hugs and loud boasting of their feats and drinking, lots of drinking. He wondered if he'd finally see John Sheppard drunk this night when they probably joined John and his friends on the ritual all soldiers undertook when they were reunited.

Rodney watched the Colonel's reunion with his Air Force buddies with fascination. This wasn't the John Sheppard he had come to know over the past two years. This Sheppard was truly laid back and unencumbered by the weight of his responsibilities and he was actually letting someone hug him, was even hugging them back. He didn't think Sheppard had that in him, not really. Sure the guy would die to save you but give you a hug?! Smile and say he had missed you like he was doing to his old pilot friends?! Definitely not. Suddenly Rodney was starting to think he didn't know his friend at all, that John had been a chameleon with him, only showing the barest hints of who he really was. The thought bothered Rodney, a lot and he decided to study the situation more when John introduced his friends to them.

Except Sheppard didn't. Introduce his friends to them that was. Instead the four pilots walked right by them and Rodney's plastered on smile of greeting melted away as did Teyla's and Ronon's. In stunned silence they watched John leave the mess hall with his good pals, having never acknowledged the presence of his Atlantis teammates.

"The Colonel must not have seen us," Teyla offered up an excuse for Sheppard even as she tried to convince herself her words were not false.

But Rodney had flung his fork down on his tray in anger. "Oh he saw us. He's just too cool to be associated with us here on Earth. He doesn't want to lower his standards," at Ronon's growl at that statement, he backpedaled, "I was talking only about myself, of course. You…he would have introduced…if he saw you…"

"'Course," Ronon untruthfully replied, stung too by Sheppard's snub.

Again Teyla tried to be the voice of reason. "Well, he does spend all his days with us and has not seen these men in a very long time. We should not begrudge him time with them instead of with us."

"Yeah, whatever," Rodney grumbled. "Guess he's not going to hang out with us after all," sadly eyeing the door Sheppard had left through with his true friends. And Rodney couldn't help feel betrayed and disappointed. John Sheppard was exactly what he had first judged him to be after all: a stuck up jock who only used geeks like McKay, never befriended them..unless to prank the geek into thinking someone cool would actually be caught dead hanging around them. Rodney had known the type all his life. But Sheppard…he had really thought they were friends, that it wasn't all about John's lack of friend options on Atlantis or necessity for Rodney's beyond exceptional brain functions. ' _Oh great. I'm the dupe I was in high school all over again_.'

As hurt silence fell over their table, Ronon was busy chastising himself for forgetting his place. Early in his military career he had made the same mistake, thinking he was an equal to one of his commanders outside a mission. He had seen the commander on base talking to another member of another team and he joined them without an invitation, adding his own opinion to their conversation. When the other man left, his CO chewed him out. He can still remember every word. ' _What was that?! You come if I call you, you talk only if I need you to. We are not pals, we are not equals, you are dirt under my boot, Dex. You learn your place before I remove you out of my unit! That clear?_ ' And his response had been ' _Crystal sir_ ,' but apparently he still wasn't clear on knowing his place.

Yes, in the intervening years he had been a leader in his own right, then had been a Runner solely in charge of his own survival and now he took orders from a man he'd been to hell and back with and he'd make that trip again any day of the week at Sheppard's side. And for the most part, the Colonel treated him as his equal. ' _But I'm not. He's my CO and I'm his subordinate and maybe on Atlantis rank gets a little lax but we're not on Atlantis, we're on Earth, on a military base, one Sheppard used to serve on.'_ Part of Ronon agreed with Sheppard's decision to not fraternize with his junior officers here and another part of him…the part that thought of John Sheppard as his brother, felt piercing pain at the denial of the bond he thought they shared in equal parts. "I've lost my appetite," he announced, dumping the leg of chicken in his hand onto the tray and getting up.

"Yeah, me too," Rodney agreed even as he was stuffing in the last piece of his pie, effectively clearing his plate as he stood up too.

Only Teyla remained seated, her eyes scanning back to the door that John had left through, hoping they were wrong, that he would return, would uphold his promise to show them the sights around his former base. But the door remained closed and she forced herself to accept he was not returning to them. And it hurt because she had envisioned John sharing his friends, his memories with her and Ronon and McKay. Had thought coming here, to Earth, to this base, that she might learn more about John than he would ever tell them himself. But now it seemed she and the other were excluded instead of included from John's life here on Earth.

He had walked right by them and after talking to his friends, left with them, never even remembering that he had promised the afternoon be spent with them. All this time, she had convinced herself that it did not matter that she was not of Earth, that she did not understand all of the Earth customs or approve of them. All because John accepted her for who she was, had from the very start, even when Colonel Sumner would have dismissed her.

But today John had dismissed her and it hurt worse than Sumner's belittling her place with her people ever could because John meant very much to her. Now she realized that she and Ronon and Rodney were an embarrassment to him, not worthy enough to be introduced to his friends…or to get past the walls John erected to keep people out. And right now she felt like she had run full force into John Sheppard's walls and had been a little broken upon the impact. "I am no longer hungry either. Can we leave?"

Dumping their trays, the three members of Sheppard's team left the noisy mess hall in silence, never knowing that they had missed John's reentry into the hall by mere minutes.

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Grabbing his loaded lunch tray, John was about to search for his friends when another familiar face brought him up short. Stunned, he headed toward the man who had been his co-pilot for more than a year and had once been like a brother to him. "Winston?"

The dirty blonde haired man turned around and his expression blossomed into startled joy. "John! Holy crap! It is you!" And he met John half way, pulled him into a tight relieved bear hug, lifted him off the ground and squeezed harder before settling him on the ground again. "Buddy I've tried to find out where they stuck you but no one would tell me."

"I'm doing some classified work," John vaguely replied, returning the hug before pulling back eyeing his friend. "You've got some grey hair going on here," tapping his friend's temples.

"Bullcrap. It's you with the lines on your face," grabbing John's face and turning it side to side. "And they ain't character lines, buddy boy."

Then other voices boomed across the room. "As I live and breathe, it's Shep. Woo hoo!" and this black man hugged John too and then the brunette man with him gave John a hearty pounding on his back. "I ought to tan your hide for going dark on us," the black man, Mario, threatened good-naturedly.

Before John could make a reply, Dan Winston was tugging on his arm. "Come on, let's head outside. I can show you my new car."

"New car?! Or car new to you?!" John teasingly ventured, enjoyed the twinkle of mischief in his friend's eye as the brunette, Carpenter, chuckled and taunted his fellow pilot, "Ah, he knows you so well." Then John was being propelled across the mess hall and out the door by the guys he had fought beside, sometimes for their very lives. Unknowingly, John and his entourage walked right by John's Atlantis teammates.

Outside Winston showed Sheppard his car, a classic Mustang in the process of being restored, or so his friend claimed. But John eyed it critically. "Hate to break this to you, but one restored door doesn't make this worthy of the classic license plate, Dan."

"Hey, I'm just getting started," Winston defended, running his hand over the rusted out side panel, envisioning how great it would look when he could afford to replace yet another part. But then he turned around, leaned against his car, and studied his friend who he hadn't seen since the whole almost court-martialed thing. John looked good, better than he had when they had last talked…or argued as the case had been.

Mario was the brave one to talk about the elephant in the room as he gave John's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You had us worried, Sheppard. After what happened…."

Dan piped in, "And our piss poor try at an intervention, we thought we had pushed you the wrong way." Hoped this impromptu reunion could patch up what he had broken between them.

"I needed pushing…" John ruefully admitted, remembered those dark days when he was grieving for his lost friend, felt guilt at his failure to save him and was between a court martial, a dishonorable discharge or a transfer to the ends of the earth where him screwing up more couldn't impact any more lives. He had spent some time drowning in a bottle and his friends had tried to be there for him but he had angrily pushed them away. "Should have thanked you back then instead of getting pissed off," John offered, could see now their intentions had been good.

Winston, like the good friend he was, didn't condemn him for being a jerk but gave him an out. "We all understood. But now…you seem…." His eyes again scrutinized John, marking the different in his friend the three years had wrought.

"Seem less unhinged, less drunk? Less likely to blow my brains out?" John suggested up their choices but his friends paled at his words. So he hurried to put a softer edge on things. "No, hey, I'm ok now."

"Really? Because …we're here for you…" Carpenter offered, for the first time joining the conversation. Always was one for keeping quiet until he could come up with the right words.

"I'm ok, Carp." At his friend's stare down of worried doubt, John tried to be more reassuring. "Really. Maybe things turned out the way they were supposed to for my career."

"That's crap and we all knew it," Winston spit out, eyes flashing in indignation for what his friend had gone through and had been brainwashed into thinking that he had it coming. "You didn't deserve to be sentenced to a frozen hell for trying to save lives, John."

"Didn't really save any lives, though, did I?" John sadly corrected his friend, remembered sharply watching Holland draw in his last breath as he helplessly knelt over him in some forgotten piece of sand in Afghanistan.

Winston grabbed John's arm, yanked his friend to face him head on, wanted this to sink in once and for all with his friend. "You tried a lot harder than the Air Force was going to. You did more than your best, John, and you should be proud of that…we are."

John nodded, didn't have words for anything he was feeling and luckily his friends got that about him, let the silence be a bridge to safer topics of conversation.

"So this new high security assignment, you like it?" Winston asked, hoped John would be honest with them.

"Yeah, I gotta say I do," and John couldn't hold back his smile because, for all the terrible things Atlantis had dumped on him, getting his friends, finally feeling like he had a family, knowing that he was needed and had the power now to actually save lives, it was worth everything.

"And you got someone watching your back? Because with your luck…you need like an army ready to bail your butt outta trouble," this came from Mario who looked way to serious waiting for an answer.

But John objected to the sully on his reputation. "Hey, I have good luck."

"Good luck like you surviving being _shot_? That's your version of good luck?" Mario prodded, clearly not on the same page as John's definition.

"Surviving _is_ good luck," John insisted but then he nodded solemnly, answered his friend's concern truthfully. "But yeah, I got a team watching my back and sometimes they are as impressive as an army in and of themselves."

"They better take care of you or we'll have their hides," Winston threatened before he clamped a hand on John's shoulder and grinned the grin that always got John into trouble stateside. "So you up for some surfing and bar hopping? They built a new bar on Manchester drive that even has an electric bull ride."

And as much as John missed his old Air Force friends, they weren't the ones he was looking forward to spending time with on his leave. "I'll take a rain check, Dan. I have plans with my friends who are probably in the mess hall somewhere wondering where I'm at."

"Ok, buddy. It was so good to see you," then Carpenter reached out and they shook hands.

"You tell that team of yours to keep saving your scrawny butt or they'll have to answer to me," Mario said, drawing John into a hug before releasing him.

Then Winston stood there, taking in Sheppard like he didn't think he'd see him again in a long while. Pulling his friend into a tight hug, he said, "I'm glad you're doing good Sheppard. You ever need us, you know we'll be there."

"I know," John replied, gave Winston a tight return hug and then his three friends got into Winston's Mustang. Smiling, John gave them a final wave as they drove away and then he turned back to reenter the mess hall, already planning what he'd show his friends in the nearby area.

But ten minutes later and with no sight of his team to be found in the mess hall, John snagged the arm of one of the Atlantis' Marines also on leave. "Lieutenant, have you seen McKay, Ronon or Teyla?"

"Yes sir, they left here about fifteen minutes ago. I saw them get in a taxi."

"Left?" John numbly repeated and the Lt. nodded his head then walked away when he sensed his CO no longer needed him. The feeling of abandonment came out of left field for John. Sure, they weren't on a mission, weren't required to stick together but he had thought…they had made plans…sort of. He had made plans in his head of them being together this leave, him showing them the Grand Canyon and the desert, eating out, going to his favorite bar.

Apparently he had misread things. I mean, of course they were sick of spending time with him, had to do it 24/7 on some missions so yeah, he got that they wanted away from him. They all needed their space. He had just thought…they didn't. He didn't. Not right then. Not there. And yeah, the last missions had not been good, him getting imprinted with Thalen sucked right up there at the top but surely they weren't still holding that against him. Knew they could trust him to be…well, him.

But John knew he was seeking an easy out. It wasn't about Thalen's possession or the missions, it was about him. They needed a break from him, good old John Sheppard. And it wasn't like it hadn't happened before. Just ask his dad and brother. He had just thought this one time that he had found some people who would put up with him no matter what. It wasn't McKay or Ronon or Teyla's fault that was too much to ask. It was his.

Leaving the mess hall without giving a thought to eating, he decided to go to the bar now and alone instead of with his friends tonight as he had planned. He had someone to see and he could buck up and do it on his own. He didn't need anyone else, had made sure of that since his Dad had made it abundantly clear that if he didn't do as he wanted him to, he could expect absolutely no help from that quarter. Trouble was, John had gotten used to needing others, needing them: his team.

Suddenly he felt like he had lied to Winston. He didn't feel in a good place at all. The tables had turned in just a half an hour's time span. ' _Welcome Home, John_ ,' he bitterly thought as he pushed out the mess hall doors, hailed down a cab and ventured into the city that had been his home a couple years back but now felt as foreign to him as an alien galaxy once had.

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TBC

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Thanks so much for the overwhelmingly awesome welcome into this fandom with my first fic, "Not Alone." I was braced to get one review if I was lucky and then you guys just gave me this outpouring of support and praise that I really appreciated! And because of that support, I'm off onto another storyline. I'm hoping you guys enjoy this story as it unfolds.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	2. What Jocks Do for Fun

Two Sides

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 2: What Jocks Do For Fun

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The bar hadn't seemed to change much since the last time John Sheppard graced it with his presence. Even the bartender was the same. "Tom, your brother going to make an appearance today or is he off romancing his latest lady of his dreams?" he asked of the bartender's back.

Swinging around in surprise, the sandy haired bartender with a medium build smiled widely at his newest patron. "As I live and breathe, John Sheppard. Danny's shift is starting at 3 but I know he'll be busting at the seams to see you. He thought aliens had kidnapped you."

"Only a few times…sometimes I went willingly," John retorting, telling the truth knowing it would never be believed.

Tom cracked up in laughter. "Good to hear humor from you again. So…things ok for you?" and the younger man had a way of looking way more concerned than John was prepared for.

And say an hour ago, John would have gladly repeated his declaration he had to the same question from his pilot buddies, but things had changed. Instead he conjured up a fake smile that he hoped Tom bought and lied, "Yeah, I'm good."

Before he learned if Tom bought his BS or not, another voice piped up from behind him and it wasn't a welcome blast from the past. "Well, we're all so happy for you, aren't we guys."

Without turning around, John drawled, "Hawkins, I'd say I missed you but I don't lie that well."

Coming to lean over Sheppard's back, Hawkins, a well built, dark haired Navy Seal, growled in John's ear. "You have some balls showing up here."

John turned around to face his antagonist. "You know, I hear that wherever I go," he replied back in that wry wit of his that tended to get him in more trouble than out of it.

"Still think you're a funny guy," Hawkins said in a tone clearly not agreeing with that assessment.

John shrugged. "Certain audiences find me hilarious."

The thought that anyone thought something even remotely good about John Sheppard only pissed the Navy Seal off more than he already was. He shoved John against the bar, snarled in his face, "It makes me sick that you're alive and three of my best friends are dead. And another kick in the gut is…I heard you got a promotion. What was that for?! Chicken shitting out of going into a hot zone and letting other guys die like you did with my team?!"

John said nothing, after all there wasn't much he could say. Hawkins' fellow Seals were dead because he had followed orders and didn't go for them. Whatever excuse he could make to Hawkins or his own conscience hadn't worked in three years it sure wasn't going to work now to assuage his guilt or Hawkins' grief and righteous anger.

Tom leaned over the bar, trying to bring reason into the tense situation. "Hawkins, don't start this crap all over again. It's been over three years…"

Lifting his blazing eyes up from Sheppard, Hawkins sank his look into the bartender. "It's been five since your brother's leg got messed up…he over that already?!"

Not wanting Hawkins' rage to be turned on Tom or Danny, John tried to go for the peacemaker shtick. "Alright, everyone's got their issues but I'll only here for today, to see Danny and then I'm gone again. Then you can go back to hating me from afar."

"You know what…that's not good enough," Hawkins seethed and John knew the punch was coming and didn't do a thing to block it. It clocked him on the right cheek and he stumbled back against the bar. Taking his time to straighten up, he was going to try again with the talking thing when Hawkins plowed a fist into his gut and followed it up with a roundhouse to his right eye that had John crashing to the floor.

That was too much for Tom to ignore and he came around the bar, bat in hand but Hawkins wasn't alone and one of his two Seal buddies punched Tom in the stomach, grabbed the bat from his lax hand and tossed it to Hawkins.

"Don't you dare pull this crap in my bar!" Tom shouted, straightening up but the other Seal happily got into the action and sent an uppercut into Tom's chin, sending the man tumbling back to the floor.

And that did it for John. "Tom's not part of this Hawkins," he growled before he surged off the floor and tackled Hawkins around the waist, sending them both careening back across the bar to topple two tables and scatter alcohol and patrons. John got in a nice one two combo on Hawkins' face before the Seal retaliated with a powerful blow to John's side.

Rolling out from under John, Hawkins grabbed John's shirt and yanked him off the ground and intended to land a nice roundhouse but John blocked the blow with his forearm, kneed Hawkins in the gut and shoved him back to land on another table. John was heading for Hawkins when the other two Seals grabbed him from behind, one landing a blow to his kidney and the other twisting his arm behind his back hard enough to strain tendons.

Climbing to his feet, Hawkins had that crazed adrenaline look in his eyes and John knew the man wasn't going to be satisfied no matter how far things went. "You can beat the crap out of me…even kill me but they aren't going to be less dead. Maybe there was something both of us could have done differently and saved one or all of them…but we don't know that. Will never know that."

But Hawkins wouldn't see logic. Stepping forward, he grabbed a fistful of John's hair and forced their eyes to hold. "What I know is I _begged_ you to get me out there, to help them and you stood there and quoted procedure to me, told me there was nothing you could do, that you had your orders. But two months later, I heard you broke the hell out of procedure, went against orders to stand down and went after your best friend. To save someone who had gone off book himself. You _picked_ who you broke the rules for. My friends just weren't worth your time, were they?!"

What Hawkins didn't get was John had disobeyed orders and gone after Holland _because_ of what happened to Hawkins' teammates. He had been a good loyal little soldier and cooled his heels on the tarmac, waiting for someone halfway across the world to decide if three American lives were more valuable than some shaky treaty with an untrustworthy tribal leader that US forces wouldn't harm his villagers. Villagers that just might have even been the men who had attacked Hawkins' teammates.

And it didn't take minutes for them to piss away the odds of survival for the three Seal members but hours. They weren't allowed to make a move until the tribal leader gave his ok for them to be on his lands for a rescue mission. Five hours after the Seal's report of making hostile contact and needing an emergency evac, Sheppard got the green light to go after them. Except it wasn't soldiers he returned with but three corpses. And John hadn't been able to stop wondering if he had gone four and half hours before, when Hawkins had begged him to break from his orders and go for them, if he would have loaded live passengers into his Black Hawk and been sharing a round of drinks with them that night instead of planning their funerals.

But there were no do overs. He hadn't broken protocol for Hawkins' teammates and there wasn't a day that he didn't regret following those orders. So yeah, when Holland went down, when he was ordered to stand down until Washington gave the rescue mission a go, damn right he disobeyed orders. The kicker was…it didn't seem to make one bit of difference. He still only brought a corpse home.

At John's silence, Hawkins wrapped his hand around John's neck. "What no smart come backs, no more excuses?"

"They were good men, if this is how you think it best to honor their memories, who am I to buck the rational thinking of Navy Seals," John goaded because, to hell with it, he didn't need Hawkins to understand him, to forgive him, didn't deserve it anyways.

With an enraged shout, Hawkins plowed his fist into John's right eye, followed up with a left hook to his face and while John hung between his two Seal pals, Hawkins retrieved Tom's bat from the floor. "Those men had more honor than you'll ever know." Then he swung the bat, striking John's torso and John gave a groan of agony as he felt his rib crack under the blow. When the two Seals released him, Sheppard fell to the ground, didn't get a chance to try and protect himself when a combat boot came barreling toward his skull. Blinding pain exploded in his head and then everything went black as space.

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Not only could the man not bother to acknowledge them in the mess hall but apparently he was too good to even answer McKay's phone call. Ok, calls. So he had called two times…or four. The thing to take away from it was John didn't answer any of them. None, nada. Was stonewalling them in all forms of communication.

"He is still not answering?" Teyla asked, sneaking up behind Rodney at the Dairy Queen.

"What? No….I am…I wasn't calling anyone," Rodney lied, putting away his phone before turning to face Teyla.

"It is ok if you were calling John. I found myself wanting to contact him but do not have a cell phone so I am glad you made the call."

And Teyla's confession that she wanted to try and talk to John assuaged some of Rodney's shame. "Yeah, well he's not answering my calls, goes directly to voice mail." At her look, he explained, "You can leave a recorded message for him to listen to later…if it's not too much bother for him to listen to it, that is."

Ronon joined them at their outside table, licking a chocolate ice cream cone. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," McKay quickly replied but Teyla was being her honest self, "John."

"He wants to be with his friends, I get that," Ronon said in response, hiding his jealousy that Sheppard could choose to spend time with men who had not been at his side the last year like he had.

"How great could these so called friends be?!" Rodney snapped. "When we all did letters home, maybe thinking it was for the last time, Sheppard didn't send any of those losers a message. Fact is….the only message he sent anyone was to Colonel Sumner's family."

"He had no other family members or friends he wished to send a last message to?" Teyla asked, concerned at this information.

McKay shook his head. "Guess not."

"I think that's none of our business," Ronon bluntly stated even as he locked the information away hoping to one day get a true read on his friend.

"Oh yes, let's honor his privacy while he brushes us off to go do what jocks do for fun. Pilot jocks probably enjoy higher culture than we could ever aspire to," Rodney sarcastically drawled, feeling even greater foolishness for trying to call Sheppard, could just imagine how Sheppard was chuckling with his friends at his expense. _Poor little geek actually thought I liked spending time with him_ , he envisioned John saying to his pilot friends when he saw it was Rodney calling.

Then the threesome fell into a quiet funk again.

"It is too bad that Carson could not be with us," Teyla tried again with happier conversation.

"At least Carson had a legitimate reason for blowing us off. Maybe after he's done discussing his medical breakthroughs with his voodoo colleagues he'll lower himself to join us for dinner," McKay said though he honestly did want the other man's company.

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When his phone trilled, Carson Beckett thought it was someone else's for a moment before he realized the sound was emanating from his pocket. Finding it weird to have a cellphone and not a radio attached to his ear, he pulled out the phone and saw the incoming call was from the major hospital in the area. With his medical discoveries being cloaked in government secrecy he wondered what the hospital could possibly want with him.

Excusing himself from the three doctors looking over his report on the retroviris, Carson stood to the side of the room and answered his phone. "Hello, Dr. Beckett speaking."

A woman's business tone returned his greeting. "Yes, Dr. Beckett, you were listed as next of kin to John Sheppard."

Suddenly Carson's gut dropped to the floor. No, it couldn't be…they were on leave, there were no Wraith or Genii, there shouldn't be anything or anyone intending to inflict harm on Colonel Sheppard. "What's happened? How is he?!"

"Mr. Sheppard was involved in an altercation and is presently unconscious. We are contacting you as his next of kin to determine if he has any prior health concerns or allergies we should be aware of."

The list of prior health concerns flickered through Carson's mind in quick procession but he could voice none of them. It was all classified, from the iratus bug bite, to the retrovirus, to the alien imprinting, then there was the number of times said Colonel had been stunned or knocked unconscious. It panicked him to think of anyone treating the man except for him, especially without knowledge of just how transformed the man's health had been by his time in Atlantis.

"Don't give him anything until I get there!" Beckett ordered like he would his subordinates on Atlantis' medical team.

The woman's tone turned prickly when she cuttingly retorted back, "Doctor we are merely looking for an update on his medical file, not a consultation."

"As his doctor and his next of kin, I order you to not bloody touch him until I get there. Is that clear?! Is it?!" Beckett sharply snapped, needed to know they wouldn't unknowingly do more harm than good for his friend.

"May I remind you that you are not licensed to practice medicine in our facility," the woman hauntingly shot back and Beckett had had enough.

"I work for the bloody government that can put you out of home and hearth so you will do as I ask or there will be hell to pay." And then, not waiting for the woman's comeback, Carson ended the call, turned to go and saw that his colleagues were all looking at him in stunned shock having overheard him when he raised his voice. "Sorry, gentlemen, family emergency," was all he offered as an excuse and then he was out the door, already figuring out where he could grab a taxi and how fast he could get to the hospital.

Minutes later as he sank into the taxi's backseat, he could finally turn to the one thought plaguing him. Was there anywhere in any galaxy that John Sheppard didn't manage to find trouble for himself?!

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Tbc

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Thanks so much for reading and I'm loving your comments!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	3. Late Night Carousing

Two sides

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Chapter 3: Late Night Carousing

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For a moment, John thought that he was back on Atlantis but there were too many people, making too much noise that Beckett would never put up with in his infirmary and the air was all wrong, didn't have that underlying scent of the ocean. Curiosity and a tad bit of worry edged John toward full consciousness but when he opened his eyes, he thought he guessed wrong, that he was in Atlantis, because the face greeting him back to the land of the living was Carson's, like it usually was when he got himself a free ticket to the infirmary.

"Hey, lad, nice to see you finally coming around," Beckett greeted the waking Colonel, feeling relieved that the man was looking at him pretty clear eyed. With the blow to his head, Beckett had fought down worry that the concussion was severe enough to warrant some haziness in Sheppard's memory.

Eyeing up the doctor and his surroundings, John put two and two together, remembered the bar fight, which he lost, and figured out he wasn't on Atlantis but your standard run of the mill ER on Earth. So the piece that truly didn't fit was staring down at him. "What are you doing here?"

In anyone else, Beckett would have thought the man in the hospital bed was confused, meant to ask, why he himself was there in the hospital, how he had been hurt. But knowing John as he did, Beckett knew the man was already ten steps ahead of the conversation Beckett had mapped out in his head. And somehow Sheppard was ticked that he was there with him in the ER, regardless that he had been rolled in there unconscious and bleeding and with a broken rib.

Not bothering to pretend he didn't get Sheppard's true meaning, Beckett brazenly declared, "I'm here because I'm not only your doctor but I'm listed as your next of kin."

"I must have missed the big adoption party when we became kin," John snarked as he attempted to sit up on the hospital bed, fell back holding his head and braced his rib from shifting in ways it shouldn't with his arm.

Putting his hand on John's shoulder, Carson softened his tone in deference to the man's obvious pain. "You didn't list anyone and that wasn't right so I put myself down."

Not up to pointing out the illogic of that move on Carson's part, John forced his hand down from his exploding head, settled back onto the mattress and studied the doctor. His presence didn't make a bit of sense to John and he wasn't thinking that was the concussion's fault. "Ookkkaayyy, but I'm not dying so they shouldn't have called my doctor or my next of kin."

There John was again, demeaning his importance to anyone. With a sigh, Beckett explained, "You were unconscious and that was good enough reason for them." Didn't mention the hospital staff hadn't expected him to come there necessarily, certainly didn't appreciate him storming in and taking over Sheppard's care. But one look at John's still and bloody form and Beckett had felt his blood pressure boil and his need to do something to make things better for Sheppard overshadowed professional courtesies. He wouldn't be earning a grant from this hospital even when hell froze over for his sharp rebukes of how they had stuffed John in a corner, hadn't even had the decency to clean the blood off him in the hour he had been in their care _before_ they even contacted Beckett.

But John Sheppard, even concussioned, was a sharp bugger, too smart for his own good…or for Beckett's try at deflection. "That still doesn't explain why you're here. We're on leave Beckett, I'm not under your care right now. You could have simply had the hospital keep you updated. You didn't need to come here."

"Are you draft, lad?! What did you expect me to do when they called and said they were admitting you, that you were in a fight and were unconscious, had a concussion, broken rib and lacerations?!" Ok, all he had known was John was in a fight and out cold, the rest he had learned when he blew through the door, snatched up John's chart and barked orders to the nearest nurse to start running tests.

Considering Beckett's question, John gave a pained, exhausted smirk, sank back heavier into the mattress. "You could have done what my father did. Tell the hospital I'm a big boy and if I was stupid enough to get hurt, I could deal with the consequences all by myself."

Carson paled at John's father's harsh treatment of his son. Wanted to wipe that pain from Sheppard, coat it over with all the care he had for the other man, that so many people from the Atlantis base did for John. "Haven't you learned a bloody thing all this time on Atlantis?! We're there for each other."

"When I'm on duty, yeah. This is a bar fight, on Earth, on my leave. You shouldn't be here," John insisted, felt stupid that his dumb fight had brought Beckett running to the hospital, like it was a matter of life or death, like he deserved to wake up with someone who cared about him standing by his side.

"No, who shouldn't be here is you!" Carson heatedly shot back, hands fisting on the hospital bed rail as he bore his look down upon his patient and friend. "I know your skills. Four men, no matter how well trained, shouldn't have been able to do this to you."

"It was only three men and I appreciate your overconfidence in my skills…" John flippantly began to respond to Beckett's assumption but fire was coming from the doctor's eyes as he pinned him with that too knowing glare of his.

"Don't go and try and flim flam me. You let these men beat you up for some…some penance you think you deserve?!" Because he might not specialize in psychology but he was starting to put the pieces together of how one John Sheppard dealt with guilt.

That raised John's hackles, had him sitting up on the bed, shoving Beckett's hand away when the doctor tried to press him back onto the bed. "Whoa, whoa, don't go all therapist on me, Doc! It was three to one odds, yes they were very well trained, and sure I have skills too but snapping necks and shooting people has been deemed too excessive force in a simple bar fight since the wild west times."

John's explanation, spoken and unspoken, sank in with Beckett. Maybe not all of it but some of John's failure to defend himself probably as best he could was because Sheppard had been afraid that, in the heat of the battle, he would take things too far, that all the violence he'd had to deal with and deal out in Atlantis had marked him. "Well darn it…I still wish you had managed to give them worse than they gave you."

Instead of some cocky, _you should see the other guy_ , comeback, John settled back again on the mattress and gave a small sad smile. "Them's the breaks."

"And why was it three to one?" Beckett finally had the good sense to ask.

John thought it came down to simple math. "Three pissed off guys, one me."

"No, I mean, why wasn't Rodney, Teyla and Ronon with you?" Had heard the foursome making plans for the day, had even had his own invite to tag along but his meeting with the other doctors had made him pass on the outing.

John looked away from Carson's scrutiny. "We needed some time apart."

Carson felt his chest tighten in tension. "Your decision or theirs?"

"Mutual..probably…mostly," John mumbled, eyeing up his sheet with put upon interest.

"Oh well, now that sounds certain," Carson rebuked, felt like cracking some heads of his own right then. Didn't know the details but John being without his team, it was all kinds of wrong.

"No big deal," John deflected, finally meeting Carson's penetrating gaze. "I went to see a buddy of mine at this bar. He wasn't there but some guys who were not my biggest fans were."

"Did you want me to contact McKay …Ronon and Teyla for you? Let them know where you are?" Eager to put the foursome together, to right whatever wrong he sensed going on in their world.

John's features scrunched up in confusion. "Why would I want them contacted? I'm not on my death bed." And no way did he want them to crow at him being beaten up without them to watch his back. He didn't need them, he didn't. Could have handled Hawkins and his goons better …just hadn't. Didn't want to waste the energy.

"You're impossible!" Carson shouted, forgetting that he wasn't the king in this realm as his outburst drew a few eyes to the windowed room. Determined to get his anger under control, he tried to knock sense into Sheppard with a gentle tone and words that didn't waver in their meaning. "You don't have to be on your death bed for us to be worried about you, son. They would have come here, as surely as I did, if they had known you were hurt."

John's eyes sparked with that stubborn will that Beckett had run amuck of too many times in the past. "They don't know and I don't want them knowing. And you have to keep quiet about it, that whole patient doctor confidentiality thing says this stays between us," John commanded.

But if John wanted to split hairs, Carson would gladly do it to his advantage. "But like you said, I'm not your doctor right now…or your subordinate since we are on leave. I don't have to do a thing you say."

Not willing to let the doctor back him into a corner, John played dirty. "If you want to stay _my friend_ , you'll do as I ask."

Carson silently cursed the Colonel for playing that card, using their friendship and his loyalty to the man to stop him from doing what he knew was the right thing. "Be reasonable colonel! I don't know why you wouldn't want your friends…"

"Because," John petulantly answered in anger before he demanded, "Now are you going to keep this to yourself?!"

With ill grace, Carson conceded the battle. "You bloody know I will but it's not like they won't take one look at you and know you're hurt."

"Let me worry about that," John assured him which gave Carson absolutely no assurance whatsoever.

"Right, why would I worry about a thing, I'm on a frigging wonderfully relaxing vacation," Carson muttered under his breath, reclaiming his seat beside John's bed.

Watching Carson settle in, John inquired like he didn't already know. "Ah, what are you doing?"

"Sitting at the moment," Carson smart mouthed back, getting comfy in the chair.

"I don't need you here. I'm fine. I'm sure you read my chart and know that."

Though this was typical Sheppard behavior, Carson couldn't hold back his ire. "You've been conscious for a bloody five minutes and you're telling me your condition?! John, for the love of…" Carson told himself to settle down, yelling at John never got him anywhere. "….just give yourself a break for a change, alright. There are no missions, no do or die situations that need your expertise. You got the hell beat out of you, you haven't told me how it happened and I've ordered them to keep you overnight so we have plenty of time to chat."

All John heard in that was he was being admitted to the hospital. "Whoa, I don't need admitted, I sure don't need to overnight it here. It was a bar fight, Beckett."

"You were unconscious for more than an hour, that's nothing to take lightly." Hoping the Colonel remembered that hiding or misrepresenting injuries was not professional, regardless that he wasn't officially on active duty, the same rules applied, Carson cross examined, "You want to tell me what they hit you with because I know it wasn't just fists."

"I'd guess a size 12 Navy issued boot." Was the last sight John recalled before lights out.

Anger surged through Carson as his mind conjured up that blow happening to Sheppard. "Bloody hell. At least you'll be able to press charges when the police return in an hour to take your statement."

"I won't be pressing charges," John stated unequivocally.

"Why bloody not?!" Carson exploded, nearly coming out of his chair in indignation at this attack to John going unpunished.

Again John tried for that determined, set in stone tone. "I just won't be," and again Beckett went ahead and ignored it.

"But…"

"Leave it, Beckett," Sheppard growled but seeing Carson flinch, knowing the man's indignation was in protection and loyalty to him, John softened his tone, implored, "Please."

Seeing that his protestations were doing more harm to Sheppard than good, Carson conceded to John's request. "Ach, lad, as you wish."

"You need to get to your meeting, doc. I really am ok."

And leave it to Sheppard to have a head injury, be unconscious for well over an hour, be in physical pain and still care enough about Carson to remember where he was supposed to be right then and put himself second to whatever else Carson had going on in his day. "Was already at my meeting," Carson offered up, hoping the Colonel didn't catch onto the vagueness of his statement. But no such luck.

Brow creasing, John recalled, "I thought it was going to run up to 8 tonight." He was starting to wonder if Carson had made up an excuse to not spend time with him that night, like his other teammates had found something better to do as well. ' _Do I have the plague and no one's bothered to mention it to me or what?_ '

Instead of telling Sheppard he had skipped out on the meeting the second he heard he was hurt, knowing Sheppard would pitch a fit and demand he rejoin his meeting, Carson instead lied outright, "We got done remarkably fast." But Sheppard was giving him that contemplative look so Carson threw out a distraction. "One of your nurses was runner up for Miss Colorado, you know."

True interest piqued in John's eyes. "Really?"

Carson nodded, and that was the thing with John Sheppard. As bad as his luck was…it was good too. Carson thanked God it was or else they would have surely lost the man twenty times just in the last year, and that was a loss he didn't think anyone on Atlantis could bear. Too bad John couldn't see that, maybe he wouldn't get into bar fights and get himself beat to a pulp if he got it through his thick skull that seeing him hurt, hurt the ones that cared about him. But then again, that would mean John grasped just how much he was loved by his Atlantis family and Carson didn't see that ever truly sinking in with the man.

"Well then, maybe I'll stick around here a little longer, you know, for your peace of mind," John joked, knowing Carson's ploy but willing to go easy on the man since he had apparently ditched his meeting to be there with him. And there was also the added bonus that, Carson was a terrible liar so chances were high that his nurse actually was a knockout.

"Oh, for my peace of mind, well thanks for that, heaven forbid it be for your own good," Carson retorted back but John was already closing his eyes, a small smile turning up his lips at the doctor's expected rant. And maybe John felt the man move the blanket up to cover him better, didn't think it was his imagination when a hand rested on his shoulder for a moment or two. So yeah, it had been a really crappy day, not Wraiths-are- coming-to-kill-you-or-anything-Atlantis bad, but still left him feeling down. However, this here, wasn't so bad because he wasn't alone, and that righted some of the wrongs of his day.

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Knocking on Sheppard's motel room door, Ronon called out, "Sheppard, It's Ronon. You sober enough to answer your door?" When silence was the reply from within the room, Ronon's knocking turned into insistent pounding on the door.

It was enough of a ruckus to bring the next door patron from her room. "I tried when we first returned. No answer," Teyla imparted, had had plans to try again later but Ronon had now beat her to it. Too bad the results were the same disappointing ones as her early attempt to find John in his room.

"It's 1 am in the morning," Ronon pointed out, sounding a lot like an irate and worried father whose son was out past curfew.

Coming down the hallway, munching on a vending machine offering, McKay supplied, "Bars only close at 2am. And then there's the 'keep the party going at someone's house' option."

"You mean he might not return tonight at all?" Telya straightened in discomfort at the thought, didn't like the idea she didn't know where John was, if he was alright. Chagrined at her worry, she reminded herself this wasn't the Pegasus Galaxy, danger did not lurk behind every tree here. But then again, this was John Sheppard they were talking about.

"Yeah he could stay out all night…not like we shouldn't expect that anyways since Sheppard's such a night owl. He doesn't usually get a lot of sleep," McKay theorized but when his two teammates looked at him in surprise, he scoffed, "You didn't know that about Sheppard? He's always roaming the halls at weird hours. Ran into him a few times when I've been obsessed working on a project until almost morning."

Teyla tried to deduce something from this new information. "Is this because he's been troubled?" Knew John dealt with great matters of life and death but he seemed to be able to not let it dim his optimism or his ability to face the next hurdles with rationale. Now she wondered if the man simply hid away his reactions to all the stress, didn't confide in any of them to soothe his own worries like he always offered to sooth theirs. It was a troubling thought.

To Teyla's insightful question, Rodney simply shrugged. "Not like he would ever tell me…or anyone else if he was upset," speaking aloud what Telya was just suspecting.

All the insight into Sheppard's possible reasons for his late night strolls on Atlantis didn't cool Ronon's humiliation at being stupid enough to seek out Sheppard in the middle of the night, and getting caught at it by Teyla and McKay. And then there was the even dumber move: being worried about John when the guy was apparently off with his true friends having a great time. Brushing by Rodney he stalked for his room one down from Teyla, vowing to not impose his friendship on John from here on out, because clearly the man didn't need or want that from him…from any of them. They had been a replacement back on Atlantis, but now that John was on Earth, he didn't need stand-ins any longer.

Ronon slammed his motel door, pissed that, no matter all that had been taken from him by the Wraith, John Sheppard had never been a replacement. Instead, John had been like a lost part of him finally found, like a true brother. What a fool he had been to think the same could be said for the Colonel.

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TBC

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Thanks so much for my wonderful reviewers who make me smile and for everyone out there reading this story!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	4. Sunglasses at Night

Two sides

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 4: Sunglasses at Night

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Carson Beckett was beyond exhausted as he trudged down the motel hallway toward the conference room. He had camped out in Sheppard's room until 5am that morning. True to his word, Sheppard hadn't pressed charges on the men who had assaulted him. Carson had not liked that one bit and had pulled the cop aside and asked if some other patrons or the bar would press charges instead but that wasn't happening either. After that, John was more quiet than usual.

Then Sheppard got sick and he was in too much misery to say anything even if he had wanted to. Through the bouts of illness, Carson had held the basin, steadied John and aided him to lie back unto the bed all the while offering up promises of, "Ah, lad, it'll get better." And it had but it had taken until the wee hours of the morning for the man to finally settle into restful sleep.

Carson had hated to sneak out on John while he was sleeping but he had obligations he couldn't skip out on that morning, namely a conference where he was one of the speakers. But he had given the hospital staff strict instructions to keep Sheppard until he returned after lunch and gave his approval on the Colonel's release. And yes, he knew the task he was asking of them, warned them the Colonel had mad skills at slipping out of hospital beds and infirmaries but if that happened on their watch, there would be hell to pay.

It still didn't feel right leaving and he stood over John's sleeping form a moment or two before he forced himself out the door, chastising himself that John Sheppard had been hurt and sick way worse than this. Told himself that his overprotectiveness over a concussion and some contusions was unwarranted. And that might all be true….except there was the glaring fact that John wasn't surrounded by people who cared about him, not even people who knew him, how important he was to so many people. To this staff, he was just a number on a chart. And John Sheppard should never be relegated to such a standing.

But leave Carson did, went to his room, snagged some scant hours of sleep and was still pretty blurry eyed as he finally pushed open the conference room doors. Which was why he doubted he was seeing what he was seeing or rather who he was seeing: John Sheppard slumped low in a chair in the last row of the conference room, sunglasses on and head resting against the back of the chair.

Fury and worry vied for supremacy as Carson stalked across the hall to the Colonel's position. Able to tower over the taller man in their current positions, Carson nearly bellowed, remembered that they were far from alone as the conference room was starting to fill up with patrons, so he just managed to keep his tone to a low roar, "You should still be in the hospital!

Not rattled one bit by the doctor's tone or his attempt to tower over him, John looked up at Carson, gave a smile that turned up his lips and stated the obvious. "I sprung myself."

"Which means not a thing as you're not a doctor!" Carson snapped back, not above stating the obvious either. Wished he could see John's eyes behind the Aviator sunglasses but knew he'd never been great at reading the man's emotions with or without visual aids, had to just use his gut instincts on what John should be or might be feeling. As if guessing what he was thinking, John told him how he was feeling the next second.

"I feel fine, doc. No worries," John glossed over Beckett's rant, gave a speculative look around the room and was glad their little exchange wasn't drawing any attention.

"Really?" Carson challenged haughtily before he went in for the jugular. "Tell me then why are you gritting your teeth, wearing sunglasses inside and back by the exit in case you feel nauseous and have to make a fast exit."

Taken back a little by the doctor's perceptiveness, John turned a little in his seat to get in a better position to stare down Beckett, knew he hadn't been able to hide his flinch when pain spiked through his head at the minuscule movement and Carson's angry features softened a tinge to concern. But concern wasn't going to get Carson to leave him alone, anger would. So John put a sting into his next volley of words. "When did you become mister observant?"

"Since my bloody patients…" then Carson modified his narrative the next second in case John went back to the old, 'you're not my doctor on Earth' argument. "Excuse me, _friends_ decide to not take care of themselves or tell me when they are feeling poorly and I have to be some bloody detective to make sure they don't keel over."

At Beckett's prediction, John offered up a full watt smile and boasted, "No keeling over happening here."

Carson let that brag go, was finally taking in John's position in the room, looked to the area between them and the stage and noted where some very familiar people occupied chairs. Knowing that the military commander of Atlantis didn't do many things without a strategy behind it, Carson changed gears, asked of Sheppard, "Speaking of here, if it's not the fast exit this seat affords you, why aren't you seated with your team?" because Sheppard not wanting his people notified he was in enough pain to warrant a hospital stay last night, that was typical self-depreciating, macho soldier Sheppard stuff. But John avoiding his teammates this morning…definitely wasn't normal, at all. Those four teammates were peas in a pod, you could barely see one without one of the other and if one was hurt, it was near impossible to get them to let the injured one out of their sight. Carson knew that first hand. So this…avoidance… it made something in the pit of Carson's stomach churn. John's deflection the next second only made the churning worse.

Smiling that sarcastic smile of his, Sheppard quipped, "We're seeing other people. Don't feel it's right to totally commit to each other until we meet the parents."

But Carson was putting the pieces together all on his own. "More like you know they'll take one close up look at you and know you're hurt. Then they'll go all concerned and protective and Ronon will want to find the people who hurt you and beat them to within an inch of their lives." Which, honestly, Carson didn't have a problem with Ronon doing that, Hippocratic Oath be danged.

John gave a short laugh, mockingly retorted, "Beckett, you've got a better imagination than I've ever given you credit for."

"Not imagination. Past experience," Carson snapped, wished Sheppard would stop with the pretending already. But then again, maybe it wasn't denial, maybe it was more a case of disbelief. So Carson set out to convince Sheppard of what he already knew: John's team loved their leader very dearly. "Maybe you've been unconscious or too out of it being in pain and medicated, but I've seen all the times they've hovered by your bed when you were wounded. You know my staff is afraid they'll bludgeon them if they don't get their permission to get close to you and lord forbid they hurt you changing your dressings or drawing blood."

Dismissing Beckett's depiction of his friends' reaction to him being hurt as some doctor mind game, part of the bedside manner package deal, John disdainfully shot back to Beckett, "Wow sounds like an episode of Little House on the Prairie. Was Rodney playing the role of Nellie?"

Instead of allowing John's words to incite him into greater anger, Carson focused on what the man clearly didn't want him to: John's belief that he wasn't that valued by his teammates, by anyone. Discarding the notion of intimidating someone as strong and unflappable as Lt. Colonel John Sheppard, Carson crouched down beside John's chair, found John flinching away as if the closeness was more a threat than the towering over him shouting ever could be. Pitching his voice in a tone of concern and true confusion, Carson asked of his friend, "Why are you being so pig headed about this? You know they would want you to sit with them, would have stormed into the hospital last night mere minutes after they knew you were hurt. And they clearly would have had your back in the bar fight, if they had been there."

"Well they weren't there," Sheppard petulantly pointed out.

"Yeah, and tell me again why not!?" because that was the part of all this that made no sense whatsoever to Carson. Felt it was the piece that would clear up the whole bloody mess between the teammates and their leader.

Miffed at the cross examination, John scathingly retorted, "Ask them. I didn't ditch them they ditched me!" Instantly he regretted his words, especially at the dismay on the doctor's face, didn't want this to sound like he was having himself a pity party.

Hearing the hurt in the other man's tone amid the anger, Carson sympathetically contradicted, "That can't be right. I know they were planning on hanging out with you."

Forcing himself to drop the defensive tone, John adopted his well-oiled carefree tone he dug out when faced with adversity, "Well I guess they changed their plans so I changed mine." Like it was fine, didn't affect him one way or another.

Carson didn't buy Sheppard's blithe attitude for a second, ached to right this wrong for his friend. "It's probably a misunderstanding. If you go talk to them…" But at his suggestion, John's features morphed into that stern, no nonsense soldier mode that Carson had only glimpsed a time or two.

"I'm not here to network," John bit out, forced himself to not let his eyes stray to his team occupying some seats down front. "I'm logging in this required seminar and then I'm out of here."

"And go where? Back to that bar? Do another round with those guys?" Carson worriedly accused.

Giving a cocky smile, John sallied, "Yeah well, I do owe them some payback."

Carson paled at the idea and his brogue got sharper. "You're not serious?! John you're in no shape…."

"Calm down, doc," John pacified. "Those guys are cooling their heels in another bar and I'm going back to that bar to see my friend, my intentions the first time I was there."

However, Carson wasn't feeling much better about John's plan. "Are you sure it's safe…"

Cocking an eyebrow, John scoffed good-naturedly, "Safe?! I'm going to a bar, not a wraith hive ship."

Tightlipped at the comparison, Carson's tone was a bit frosty. "If it's so safe why'd you end up bloody and concussioned and broken?"

But John only smiled. "Some would say it's the cost of having my winning personality."

"John maybe you shouldn't go alone…" Carson continued to fret, didn't want to contemplate the consequences if John's ribs or the man's thick head took more abuse.

"Carson, I'm fine, not infected with a bug virus, not possessed, not shot or stunned into oblivion," John assured before he reached out and patted Beckett's arm. "Thanks for…you know, coming to the hospital and all but I'm ok on my own."

"That's the thing I'm been trying to tell you, John, you're not on your own. Not on Atlantis and not here." But even as he said the words, Carson could see that John was shutting them out, was being a stubborn bugger about this. From past experience, Carson knew there was no talking John Sheppard into thinking something he didn't want to. So with a sigh, he gave one more unwanted piece of advice. "All the same, you keep that in mind in case you find yourself up against bad odds again."

Then Carson stood up, gave John's shoulder a squeeze and left the man to his supposedly sought after solitude.

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Though none of the threesome would admit to searching the conference crowd for John Sheppard since they arrived, they all noted the man's entrance, watched as he chose a seat in the back of the hall, purposefully as far away from them as he could get. This time McKay didn't try to wave down the Colonel, didn't say any of the seats beside him were saved for him, because …well they weren't.

"Why does the Colonel wear sunglasses inside this room. There is no sun out today. In fact, it appears to be about to rain," Teyla asked, totally avoiding the real question. Namely, what had they done so wrong that even now, when the Colonel's Air Force friends were not present, did John still want nothing to do with them.

"Hungover, apparently," Rodney snapped in disapproval. ' _Serves the jerk right_ ,' he meanly thought but almost instantly felt bad for it.

Teyla's features creased with confusion. "He is hung over what?"

Sighing, Rodney explained to the Pegasus Galaxy native, "No, I mean…he drank in excess last night and he feels awful today for it. Headache, queasy stomach, sensitive to light and loud sounds."

From his place on the aisle seat, Ronon interjected, "The after..it's what we call it on Satedan," blowing apart his pretense of not caring about his teammates' conversation about Sheppard.

"Oh, we did not have a name for that." Teyla shot a look over her shoulder to Sheppard, who seemed oblivious to their presence. "He must have indeed drank much because he looks very pale," a tinge of worry in her tone as there always was when it came to John's wellbeing in jeopardy.

"Serves him right," McKay forced himself to say aloud his thoughts of a moment ago, hoping to sound not hurt but angry. Life had taught him that showing pain only allowed people to exploit him. Anger, on the other hand, had people running for the hills away from him. And well…it had been his go to for so long but since coming to Pegasus…befriending John…who didn't run, who had instead matched him wit with wit, sometimes brains with brains…snarky with snarky. ' _Should have stuck with Plan A_ ,' Rodney morosely thought, because now, he was hurt by John's seeming rejection of him.

"I can not wish him misery," Teyla countered, not in reprimand of Rodney's sentiment but almost in upset at her own failings to follow his suit.

Continuing to look only forward, refusing to acknowledge the man's presence in the back of the room who he had thought he had shared an unbreakable bond with, Ronon growled, "Sheppard's a grown man, knew the consequence of his actions." ' _All his actions_ ,' because John Sheppard might seem to act recklessly but his mind was just that quick at calculating odds and outcomes his decisions came lighting fast. ' _Like his decision to go with his Air Force buddies instead of us, to not sit with us today, not even acknowledge we even are in the room with him.'_

But then Ronon's anger turned inward, that he had jumped into this Atlantis situation so quickly, had trusted this man when he hadn't trusted anyone in seven long years. And maybe that explained his rashness, he had ached to have someone to call friend, for someone to have his back, to not be alone. Now he wanted to believe he had been wrong to make John Sheppard that choice…but he couldn't. Even if Sheppard kicked him off his team, never deemed to talk to him again…he still owed the man more than he could ever pay. He could not write off all they had been through together..even if Sheppard could. That realization drained the anger from him, leaving only sorrow for something precious lost, again.

"Yeah, guess high times with his good ole buddies is worth feeling like crap to him," Rodney cuttingly surmised. That put the teammates into a sullen silence until McKay noted someone had dared to approach Sheppard. "Carson's screwing up Sheppard's plan." That had Teyla and Ronon even turning around to watch the exchange between the soldier and the doctor.

"Doc looks pissed," and there was a hint of glee in Ronon's tone.

Wordlessly they watched the interaction between Sheppard and Beckett, were a little surprised when Beckett crouched down beside Sheppard, changing the dynamics from an angry encounter to a entreaty, at least on Beckett's side. Sheppard was clenching his jaw before he then tried to appear not upset, his teammates saw through the sham though, had been witness to John's barriers way too often to fall for it. Then Carson was standing up, gave John's shoulder a squeeze and left the man, but there was a pinched, unhappy look to the doctor's visage as he made his way to them.

"I see Sheppard's too good to be seen with you too," McKay greeted smugly, felt vindicated that John wasn't associating with Beckett any more than he was with them.

Caught off guard by the statement, Carson tilted his head in misunderstanding, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's sitting back there with his too cool for school attitude," McKay quipped, jerking his chin toward the only Atlantis personnel sitting solo.

"Rodney it's not…he's…" Carson began but John's demand that he not tell his teammates about his fight and hospital stay forbade him from making an out and out clear defense for Sheppard.

"Don't stick up for him," McKay snapped. "I saw you having a not so nice conversation with him. What? He tell you he didn't want to be seen talking to you or what?"

McKay's wrong guess and defamation of John's character had Carson's anger spiking all over again. "Rodney, stop jumping to conclusions that are so very wrong."

"Oh, really. If I'm so wrong, then explain it to me, Beckett? Defend him?" McKay challenged haughtily. "He ditched us at lunch, didn't even return my calls yesterday…"

Ronon perked up, leaned across Teyla to pin Rodney with his glare. "You called him?"

Rodney blushed. Ok, he had made the call on the sly, didn't want the others knowing he had broken down and tried to reach Sheppard. "Well…yes…ok I did but it doesn't matter he never called back, didn't even have his phone turned on."

Seeing his opening, Carson began to explain, "That's because…" but then his eyes went to Sheppard, knew behind the aviator sunglasses that the man was watching him, waiting for him to betray his trust. And he knew he couldn't say more, wouldn't betray John, even for a good cause of defending him to his best mates. Switching tactics, Carson suggested, "Why don't you just go talk to him? Ask him yourself what's going on?"

Sitting back into his seat, eyes forward to a stage that had no one on it yet, Ronon grumbled, "What's going on is, he's more than fine not having to spend time with us." Ok, so he was still pissed and hurt and he didn't want to be off Sheppard's team. Didn't the man know he had joined the Atlantis expedition, not for its spacious rooms and awesome food or even their mission to stop the wraith but because of John Sheppard, because that man alone had earned his trust, his allegiance.

Giving a frustrated sigh, Caron silently cursed Sheppard for being so stubborn, for tying his hands from explaining the Colonel's side of things. Seeing the conference organizer waving him over, he knew he had to go, would be expected to make his speech and not play intermediary to a bunch of stubborn, blind, squabbling fools that he cared entirely too much for. Glaring at Rodney, Teyla and Ronon, he gave them a heated bit of advice before he left for the stage, "Get your heads outta your behinds and go talk to him."

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When the conference was over, against what their wounded hearts were telling them to do, Teyla, Rodney and Ronon all sought out the figure of Sheppard. But the military leader of Atlantis was gone, a ghost, was out of there before the last word of closing was uttered. A fact Beckett witnessed first hand from stage, unable to call out and tell the man to not move one bloody foot out that door without talking to his team.

Switching his gaze to Sheppard's team, their downfallen expressions when they sought Sheppard and didn't find him was enough to make Beckett's mind up for him. Coming down the stage, he marched toward the threesome, vowing to walk that tightrope between keeping his vow to Sheppard and getting the stubborn idiots back together again. Because they bloody needed each other, were somehow lost, if Sheppard wasn't with them, if Sheppard didn't have them.

For as much as he'd like to take credit for saving the team member whenever one of them, mostly the Colonel, ended up needing his medical expertise, Carson accepted long ago he merely patched them up, the rest of them, being there with the wounded party, worrying over their bed, chastising them to eat (ok, that was never Rodney's problem) , preventing them (Sheppard) from making an ill-advised escape from the infirmary, did the actually healing. Would ever play the bigger bad guy than he was when necessary, if an escape was managed, it was one of Sheppard's teammates who corralled the Colonel back to the infirmary or took the responsibility of watching out for him if Carson could be persuaded to let him recuperate in his room, neither of which earned them good marks with their commanding officer.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," he muttered, knowing he just might top the Colonel's crap list with his plan but it was time enough for him to stop worrying about damaging his own relationship with John. _'If his friendship means anything to you at all, you need to take this risk,'_ he told himself as he approached McKay and the others. "Hello," he greeted and it sounded nervous to his own ears but it drew the attention of Rodney, Telya and Ronon. "I heard about this great bar and I hoped…you know…that you'd join me in a round."

Dejectedly, Rodney gave a halfhearted yes. "Sure, got nothing better lined up."

"Thank you for the invitation, Dr. Beckett. I would enjoy spending time with you," Teyla cordially agreed making Carson feel a tad guilty for his deception.

"Drinking? Is that all you people know how to do for camaraderie?" Ronon could think of a thousand different things he and his fellow soldiers did on Setadan that showed their loyalty, their enjoyment of spending time together. Ok, sure, they did drink but after Sheppard's apparent all night binge with his friends, drinking now seemed a meaningless and stupid way to spend time with a true friend.

Carson didn't expect Ronon to scoff at his idea, thought Ronon would be the first to agree to it, in fact. So at the Satedan's accusation, Beckett stammered, "No…not…."

Taking pity on the doctor, knowing the man was only trying to be pleasant, Ronon apologized, "Sorry doc, I'm just in a bad mood." Then he tried to smile but the gesture barely turned his lips up. "So maybe a drink will do me good."

' _I hope it does us all some good_ ,' Carson apprehensively yearned, knowing that this could all blow up in his face but told himself it was worth it. John Sheppard had the knack for bringing these diverse people together, himself included, and bonding them together with the strongest of loyalty. But more than that, John had meshed them into one of the most caring _families_ Carson had ever seen in action. And having been part of that, Carson was not willing to let it slip through his fingers. Would not let it be lost for McKay, Teyla, Ronon or John himself. And if that took some craftiness on his part, some theatrics of pretending to be surprised they discovered Sheppard at the bar he choose, so be it. Sometimes you had to be a little underhanded when it came to protecting one's family…John Sheppard had taught him that.

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TBC

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I am feeling so blessed by the wonderful support shown to this little story of mine! Not to mention I'm having a high old time putting Sheppard and friends through the emotional ringer. Thanks again for reading and enjoying my story!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	5. Fallback Vices

Two sides

Author: Cheryl W.

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Chapter 5: Fallback Vices

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The bar wasn't all that far from the hotel and seemed well kept and not one to cater to biker gangs, not that that would have stopped Carson from seeking Sheppard there but it eased his tension a bit. Ok, maybe he had watched too many American movies, thought ever bar had deadly tattooed bikers ready to beat the tar out of wayward patrons waiting inside.

' _Forget the bikers, let's just hope Sheppard's here_ ,' Carson told himself as he entered the building, Sheppard's team following behind him. As he scanned the patrons, he began to have serious doubts about his plan to initiate this enforced reunion between the military leader and his team. But he trusted the goodness of Rodney, Teyla and Ronon, knew in his heart of hearts that once they saw their friend's state, not just John's physical abuse but the emotional turmoil underneath his barriers, they wouldn't let John down. No matter what misunderstanding had occurred between them.

McKay and the others claimed a table but Beckett stood there, still searching the room for a spikey haired stubborn man who should be in the hospital yet, or at the very least, resting back at his hotel room. His posture stiffened when he found his prey. Without a word to his friends, Carson determinately dodged his way around the tables, and weaved through the meandering patrons until he reached the bar. "I bloody knew it! You're mixing your pain medication with alcohol!" he exploded, fighting the urge to knock the shot glass out of John Sheppard's hand.

Turning to the doc in surprise, John drawled with little amusement behind his still in place aviator sunglasses, "Actually I'm not. What are you doing here?!"

Ignoring Sheppard's question, Beckett processed John's defensive statement and came to a conclusion that only angered him more. "Right, you're not taking the meds for pain!"

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Watching Carson strangely leave them without an explanation, Ronon tracked the doctor's progress across the room until he reached the bar. "Is that Sheppard?" because he could swear that was who Carson was having a not so nice conversation with.

Ronon's statement had Teyla and Rodney turning in their chairs to follow his line of sight. Dazedly, Rodney confirmed, "Yeah…I would know that hair anywhere."

But Teyla had her doubts. "I am not sure. That man is smoking."

"Sheppard doesn't smoke," Ronon and McKay unequivocally declared at the same time even as they both got up, started to head to the bar a second after Teyla had started on that path.

Trying to get past a few less than sober patrons, Teyla got a better glimpse of the man at the barstool. "That is John and he is smoking."

Roughly pushing a man out of his path, Ronon growled in disapproval, "How does he expect to ever beat me on our runs if he poisons his body with that stuff." His pace quickened as he was preparing to rip John a new one for compromising his health. Because more was at stake than John lagging behind him on their runs. John's life was at stake when him being faster than, say, a Wraith, meant the difference between John going home to Atlantis after a mission or being another name on a growing list of Atlantean casualties.

"I think Beckett's gonna beat you to lecturing him about it," Rodney guessed by the two men's expressions and then they were close enough to overhear the doctor and soldier's conversation.

Beckett, unaware of the Atlantis team's close proximity, was captivated by the realization that a cigarette dangled from Sheppard's left hand. "And you're smoking?! All that with a concussion?!" And it put Carson over the edge to see the way John was taking absolutely no care of himself. "Why'd I ever become attached to you when you're trying to bloody kill yourself every month."

Sitting his shot glass on the bar with some force, John corrected through clenched teeth, "Hey, it's _others_ that are trying to kill me." Because he was sick of everyone back here still treating him like he was a suicide risk, sure didn't need Beckett joining the bandwagon.

"But why let them have all the fun, huh?" Ronon confronted John, flanked by Teyla and Rodney, who stammered in concern, "You have a concussion, how? I didn't know you got hurt on our last mission."

"He didn't. He was fine," Ronon declared, had assigned himself his CO's protector since the start of their time together, would have known if Sheppard had been injured on their last mission.

Finding himself surrounded by his team and Carson, John knew it was no coincidence. Turning blazing eyes on the ringleader, he bit out, "Wow. Great work keeping the doctor/patient confidentiality clause, Beckett."

But Beckett wouldn't apology for what he had arranged, was now certain it was the best thing for all parties involved, especially after catching John drinking and smoking all alone. "Well if you hadn't blatantly disregarded my medical advice and common sense I wouldn't have to trick you into talking to your friends, letting them know what's going on with you."

Seeing John up close and personal, Ronon's guts tightened as he read John's body language indicating careful movements and pain. Then there were the sunglasses, namely what they were hiding because Ronon could see bruising peeking out under their frames. Ronon reached out to remove the glasses, John's hand snagged his. Then they were engaged in a staredown, John hiding behind his mirrored glasses and Ronon's eyes blazing determination and concern. "Let me see," and there was entreaty there, not anger.

That tone was probably why John released Ronon's hand, allowed the tough Satedan soldier to gently slide the sunglasses off of him to reveal his black right eye and cut left cheek. Ronon's jaw clenched in fury as he snarled, "Who did this to you?"

"John, what has happened?" Teyla spoke for the first time, her concern a strange mix to Ronon's fury.

Uncomfortable with the protective anger from Ronon or the concern from Teyla and Rodney's apprehensive look, John quipped, "I joined a fight club for extra money. My salary increase to Lt. Colonel wasn't all I thought it was going to be."

"Cut the crap," Rodney snapped, pushing in to be shoulder to shoulder with Ronon as they tried to stare John down for the truth. "This what you and your buddies do for fun? Get into fights?!" his disapproval clear, hoping the Colonel's buddies somehow took a worse beating than Sheppard but by the look of Sheppard, he didn't know how that would be possible without a hospital stay.

Rodney's accusation confused John, had him asking, "What buddies?" Wondering what tale Beckett had spun to them that made it seem like he had done this for fun, that getting beat up was an activity he enjoyed, like golf.

Teyla provided an answer, tried to not let her hurt or any censure enter her tone, "The soldiers that you left the mess hall with."

Sheppard tilted his head in surprise. "Wait, you were there? Saw me with them?"

"Yeah, right, like you didn't walk right by us in the cafeteria, purposefully didn't associate with us. Especially when you had your cool Air Force buddies to hang out with," McKay scornfully shot back, couldn't undo his hurt even if he did feel bad Sheppard had gotten hurt while they were apart. After all, it wasn't _his_ idea for them to be apart, was all Sheppard's.

Before John could defend that ludicrous statement, Ronon was grilling him, "Speaking of them, how come they didn't have your back? I don't care the odds. You four should have been enough to defeat three men."

"We can…they can," John defensively shot back before he could coach himself not to.

Pointing to John's abused features, Rodney taunted, "Then explain you looking like a battered spouse?" Because that in no way looked like how people who could handle themselves came out in a fair fight. He felt growing anger at John's buddies that they had let this happen, so much anger that he wanted to punch _them_. A lot.

At Rodney's criticism at his fighting abilities, John snarked back bitterly, "Nice. So glad you're here to boost my ego."

That had Rodney paling, stammering out an apology, "I just mean…you look bad and …well, you shouldn't." He didn't like John being hurt, never did and the fact that John's buddies hadn't protected him better than this, it just made him mad. Had he been there…well, ok, he was terrible in fisticuffs but he wouldn't have stood by and let John take this abuse.

Though Beckett had been relegated to the background, he couldn't let John's friends continue to berate the man. That wasn't why he had brought them together. "Oh for Pete's sake," he directed at John for not defending himself way before this. Beckett's next words were for John's friends. "It was three to one odds. Whoever you saw him with at the cafeteria, they weren't with him when he came here." Carson didn't back down at John's hot glare, instead, muttered, "If you're not going to defend yourself, I will."

But Teyla was the first to try and sort out Beckett's provided information. "I do not understand. You left with them…but they were not with you when you were attacked," she slowly asked of John.

"I wasn't attacked…it was a good old bar fight," John corrected heatedly, all this was getting way out of control. Over nothing. He was fine, not crippled or anything.

"Why weren't they with you?" Ronon was back into interrogation mode and John noted all three of his friends were staring at him, waiting for him to truthfully answer the question.

"We walked outside, talked a while and then they left," John recapped, wasn't about to mention how he felt coming back into the cafeteria, finding out his friends had ditched him. But then again…there was new light being shone on that outcome. McKay, Teyla and Ronon had thought he saw them in the mess hall and ignored _them_ , had watched him leave the building with his friends. What they assumed after that wasn't so farfetched. Narrowing his eyes, he took a chance he wasn't opening himself up to more hurt and revealed, "I never saw you guys in the hall, caught sight of Winston and then two other guys I used to fly with showed up. We went outside to talk and when I got back inside the mess hall, you guys were nowhere to be found. Then someone said they saw you three leave."

Seeing how things had gotten screwed up with a stupid misunderstanding, Rodney exhaled, "Oh crap…we thought…you walked right by us…twice."

"John, we are very sorry. We thought you did not wish to spend the day with us since you met up with your other friends," Teyla fervently apologized, reaching out and giving John's hand a squeeze.

Feeling ashamed at his own hurt feelings at the mix up, John quickly absolved them with a "S' ok."

"No, no it's not," Ronon fiercely countered, drawing all eyes on him, causing everyone else to wonder if tensions were about to escalate again between them, until Ronon spoke his next words. "Not when we weren't there to have your back."

"Right, and if we were talking about a life or death situation, that would be super unforgiving. Except this wasn't that, was just me off having a drink at my friend's bar," John pointed out.

"Yes, and let it up to you to make that simple thing go so horribly wrong," McKay countered to John's placating statement. When John opened his mouth to protest, McKay laid out his evidence, "Yes, wrong. Bruises and concussion, and knowing you, there's probably something else you're not admitting to…"

Sheppard shot Beckett a look to keep quiet but the doctor was already ratting him out. "Actually, he has a broken rib and his concussion was quite severe which is why I ordered the hospital staff to keep him over night and most of today."

"Hospital?" came in triplicate from Teyla, Ronon and Rodney.

"You were in the hospital? Overnight! And you forgot to call us? Tell us that tidbit even now?!" Rodney's voice rose in outrage as he pinned John with his reprimanding glare.

But Ronon had another person he blamed for the lack of communication. Turning to Carson, he menacingly said, "And you knew he was hurt, _last night_. And you didn't tell us."

"Whoa, whoa, leave Beckett out of this," John protested, though he was torqued at Carson's little staged reunion, the man had been there for him, had kept his silence when it really counted and shouldn't be thrown under the bus for his loyalty to him. "I asked him not to call you."

"Why, John? You know we would have been there for you had we known you were hurt," Teyla insisted and John dropped his eyes from her's because last night, he didn't know that, didn't trust that that was true.

Carson watched as John's unspoken confession rippled through Sheppard's team, that John had doubted their concern for him, doubted they would have come if they had been notified that he had been hurt. And that was the crux of the problem. One that only John's team could solve.

And maybe they were about to when a new male bartender, walking with a pronounced limp and sporting an Air Force tattoo on his forearm, came to stand across the bar from John and stole John's attention from his teammates. "Tom thought you were doing better. Guess you fooled him like you tried to fool me three years ago," censure and disappointment and sorrow laced in the man's words.

Head swiveling to Danny when the man began to speak, John had begun to smile at the sudden appearance of the friend he had wanted to connect with the other night. But then, as the other man's words sank in, he scowled. "I am doing better."

But Danny wasn't buying it. Leaning over the bar closer to his friend, he summarized the evidence against John's statement. "Losing fights, smoking…shots of bourbon. Seems a lot like the last time I saw you…and I sure wouldn't call that ' _you being in a better headspace'_ ," quoting a conversation he had had with John over the phone after John got stationed at the McMurdo base.

Suddenly, Ronon entered the two men's conversation. "Oh, he just requit smoking," he guaranteed, shooting John a pissed off look that his friend had risked his heath on the bad habit before they met, would not let the John do it now. To make his point, he snagged the cigarette from John's left hand and put it out in the ashtray with finality.

"And he'll be nursing a Coke from here on out," Carson said as he reached over, grabbed John's untouched shot of bourbon and downed it like a man drowning.

Danny took in the quartet surrounding John for the first time. "Friends of yours, I take it."

"Never saw them before in my life," John joked.

Rodney gave a bit of an unhinged laugh at how John's sarcastic denial of him, of them, didn't hurt his feelings now like it would have only five minutes before when things were still confused between them. All eyes fell on him and he stammered, "That's…funny…now that….before would have been….oh never mind."

Teyla, sensing John sought a private talk with his friend, announced, "We will leave you two to talk." Then she tugged on Rodney's arm even as he protested, "But I didn't get any of the peanuts at the bar…or a drink. Maybe we shouldn't leave Sheppard alone with this guy…"

"He will be perfectly fine. Besides we will be just over at that table," and that last part she directed to John, knew he received her assurances that they had no intentions of leaving him when he gave her a small nod. Carson followed Teyla and Rodney but Ronon hesitated, stood at Sheppard's shoulder and scrutinized Danny, like the man posed a threat to John.

Which was ridiculous and if John was the blushing kind he would have blushed at the overprotectiveness of his team. "Ronon, its fine. I'll join you in a bit." Then Ronon's eyes sought his, searched his expression until he found he believed John's vow, but still, he gave Danny a parting warning glare.

Even as he claimed a chair at the table with his friends, his back to Sheppard, Ronon tuned his sharp hearing into the conversation at the bar. Didn't let himself feel guilty for eavesdropping, not when the last time he had kept his distance from his friend, John had been injured enough to end up in a hospital. But there was something more troubling Ronon than his friend's physical wounds, were some shadows in John's eyes that weren't usually there, or that John usually didn't let him see. And that made Ronon feel even more protective than he usually did for his CO, and it didn't matter at all that this wasn't a dangerous mission, was just John sitting with an old friend who had a tongue as sharp as McKay's. Some things wounded more deadly than weapons, like words and misunderstandings and letting down a friend, the last two days had taught him that hard lesson. But he was a fast learner, would not be prey to those things again, not him, not John, not the people he cared about. He hoped John's friend read that fair warning in his gaze before he left him alone with John or there would be more blood spilled on this bar floor and this time it wouldn't be any of Sheppard's.

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TBC

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Thanks again for all the lovely support! Only one more chapter to go.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	6. When It Counts

Two sides

Author: Cheryl W.

Author's Note: Typical of my writing, my last chapter turned out longer than I planned. So I'm splitting it up into 2 chapters. Here's the 2nd to last chapter!

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Chapter 6: When It Counts

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Danny, pissed at being perceived an enemy of Sheppard's by his friends, acidly charged, "Where were they when you let Hawkins and his apes work you over?! Because they sure weren't there when you needed them, were they?" Danny saw John's tall friend's back stiffen, knew the man had heard his accusations, thought he would come back at him, swinging. Might have if John hadn't said what he did next.

"They've always been there for me when it really counts," John lowly growled back, angry that Danny was laying blame on his friends for their mix up that day, that everyone was making such a big deal over a dumb fight in a bar. He felt like he was getting called on the carpet by his dad all over again for marring their good family name by punching some drunks in a local bar.

"What? And I wasn't there for you, right?!" Danny went on the defensive before lowly hissing, "You didn't _let me,_ John. You shut me out…everyone that gave a damn about you. But I …I tried…." his voice cracking, revealing his still animated turmoil at his failure to help John four years ago.

And there was no part of John that blamed Danny, didn't acknowledge that his friend had done all he could for him back then. He had been broken, wallowing in anger and grief and guilt, and utterly lost and nothing anyone said had the power to save him from himself. Only a demotion, banishment to the cold hell of McMurdo, a trip to another galaxy and meeting up with extraordinary people who cared for him more than anyone else ever had, four of which were at a table at his back, had been able to truly heal him, mind, heart and soul. ' _And I never even thanked them. Or Danny for trying to help me, for keeping me alive when I didn't know if I even wanted to be.'_

"You were there for me, Danny," John resolutely declared, needed his friend to accept that, know that. "I wouldn't have made it without you, the other guys in our unit. Yeah, I know I didn't make it easy but…you didn't give up on me..even when I gave up on me."

Danny's eyes held John's trying to see if he should accept John's praise and gratitude, if he really deserved it or if John was feeling overgenerous again. Coming to believe John's words, he felt the fear in his gut fade away that had been ignited at seeing John sitting at the bar, smoke in one hand, drink in the other, hunched over in pain. Smiling, he boasted, "I don't bet on losers, Sheppard, you know that."

John happily rose to the bait. "If that were true, you'd be a rich man because of the ponies instead of a lowly bar owner."

"Lowly, my butt. Your tab alone put us in the black our first year open," Danny taunted back, believed John's smile when it lit up his friend's bruised face.

John tilted his head. "And here I thought you were pissed I was drinking."

"You drinking, yes, your friends ordering drinks until they are fall down drunk, I'm fine with." His eyes going to said friends, Danny felt a little sad as realization hit him. He wasn't tasked with saving John anymore, they were. He was just an old acquaintance, relegated to John's past.

Ruffling in his pockets, John finally found what he was searching for, laid it on the bar and slid it over to Danny. It was a business card of an Orthopedic Doctor. "Carson, the guy who stole my bourbon, he knows this doctor, says he's the best at reconstruction surgery on limbs even years after the trauma. And he's had success with shrapnel damage to nerves. Carson called in a favor, said the doctor would meet with you…if you wanted to. I know…you're doing good with it…but…if there was something we could do to lessen your pain…"

And there it was, the old John Sheppard loyalty to the bitter end. Danny didn't miss John's phrasing either, the "something we could do". They would never just be acquaintances, were friends, brothers, had spilled blood and endured pain and fought at each other's back to survive and that kind of connection, it seeped into your soul. Well it did for someone like John. And for him.

"So you blew into town, duked it out with Hawkins for entertainment, got your doctor buddy to network on my behalf before coming tonight. What next, take out all the Jihadists?" Danny joked, trying to not get choked up by John's kindness.

"For your information, I got Carson "networking" months ago, I didn't schedule the whole duking it out with Hawkins and honestly it wasn't that much fun and believe it or not, I have bigger fish to fry than the Jihadist these days. So you gonna call him or what? I don't ask favors lightly you know," hoping to guilt his friend into calling the doctor if that was what it took.

Picking up the card, Danny slid it into his back pocket, passing a silent agreement between them that he would not waste John's rare but appreciated favor asking. Then he jerked his chin to the table a few feet behind John. "You better join your friends before they send the big guy over to protect you from me."

"His name's Ronon. And do I hear some trepidation in your tone? You saying you couldn't take him?" John taunted his long time friend.

"I'm saying I doubt even think you could take him so don't get on his bad side, like ever," Danny parried back, envisioned his good old pal looking way worse than he did now if Ronon turned his massive fists in his friend's direction.

Sheppard laughed. "Always the worry wart."

"And I'm betting you're still the same reckless idiot who doesn't stop to think about his own safety. That's why you need four bodyguards, but the women and the geek…strange choices, even for you." And ok, it was a goad for Sheppard to open up, tell him about his friends. One that worked like a charm.

John quickly defended his choice in friends with a knowing, proud smirk. "Give Teyla a pool stick to wield and she'd kick your butt even better than Ronon. And as far as Rodney, don't let his pocket protector persona fool you, he's saved my life more times than the rest have and he's braver than he even wants to be. Kinda like you."

"Ha ha. You're still not hilarious or even funny. Pathetic, I think that's the best description," Danny returned with his own smirk.

"Come on, you missed me. Go ahead and admit it," John taunted, had missed the give and take with Danny, though Rodney always gave him tit for tat.

"I did miss you," Danny seemed to confess before snorting. "But only because our bar's been in the red since you left town.

"Now you're the one not funny," John drawled but he caught the true emotions in his friend's eyes, knew that Danny had indeed missed him and it felt…surprising and good. John had thought once he left for Atlantis he might as well have been dead to all those who knew him on earth. Was why he never contacted anyone, hadn't sent a recorded message home when they had been thinking it was their last communication with earth. Why send a message no one cared to listen to, right?

"It would hurt your ego if I was funny," Danny declared, trying to come off serious before his smile stole across his face and he landed his insult. "You get twitchy around true competition."

"There is no competition for me," John boasted, glad Rodney wasn't there to dispute it, but then again, Danny was never one to lose a battle of words either.

"Right, because crazy like yours isn't something anyone else wants," Danny zinged back at him

"Everything ok over here?" and it wasn't Ronon coming to check on John but Rodney.

Watching McKay's eyes shooting to Danny, John wondered what McKay had intended to do if things _weren't_ ok. "Just reminiscing, trotting out old insults. Here," and John shoved the bowl of peanuts into Rodney's hands. "You bring the peanuts, Danny will bring the cold ones."

"You're getting Coke, Carson said," Rodney reminded like a tattle tale worried little brother.

"Right, that's what I meant, a cold Coke. Yum. So much better than beer," John grumbled with absolutely no enthusiasm as he slid off the bar stool. He stifled a wince as his rib protested the motion but noticed Danny and Rodney watching him, both apparently had some notion he was in pain. "Just a little stiff," he downplayed.

"Yeah because they only put you in the hospital, _overnight,_ for stiff muscles," Rodney drolly retorted, still not happy Sheppard hadn't called them when he landed in the hospital, had hid his injuries from them when they saw him here, was even now trying to underrate his pain.

John shot a threat to Danny as his friend laughed at McKay's sarcasm, was getting too much satisfaction out of him being berated by his teammate. "Hey, I'm your commanding officer, show some respect," John whined but McKay only came back with a "We're on leave, so those roles don't apply, right? Isn't that what you told Beckett when he showed up at the hospital?" And there was no question there, just Rodney turning the tables on John's own words.

"Beckett talks too much," John grouched as he shot Danny a bellyaching 'see what I have to put up' look before he followed McKay to the table his friends occupied. Ronon kicked out a chair and John carefully maneuvered into it, felt all eyes on him. "What?"

It was Teyla who answered him more tactfully than the rest of the table's occupants could. "We are just…concerned. The man seemed like your friend but he first appeared to be…"

"Pissed off at you?" Rodney supplied helpfully.

"That's just our style. Grumble at each other but it's all in good fun," John reassured with that playful smile of his.

"Like the others you met here the other night that used your face as a soccer ball?" Carson chided, wasn't feeling very trusting right then.

"Hawkins has never been good at the role playing, always takes it too far," John joked, wasn't willing to talk with his friends about Hawkins and why the SEAL hated him.

Knowing that Sheppard's smart aleck remark was a 'keep out' sign, Ronon honored the man's obvious request for privacy. On that matter at least. "This guy at the bar, you knew him in your military service?"

"Yeah. Danny and I did a few tours together. Gave me a run for my money as a helicopter pilot but I was hands down the better jet pilot," he said, knowing his friend was coming up behind them to deliver the drinks right then.

"That's only because I never was a jet pilot," Danny interjected purposefully sloshing John's shoulder with beer, that he didn't even get to drink. Instead a tall glass of Coca-Cola was slammed triumphantly down in front of him. "Enjoy," he bade, mindful of the man's concussion, he playfully but gently mussed John's hair before retreating back to the bar.

But Carson noted Danny's gait and finally put two and two together. "He's the friend you wanted that orthopedic doctor to see. Leg trauma when his helicopter was shot down."

John's face changed to concern. "Yeah, I know he's still in pain and I'm hoping your friend can do something about it."

"Ah, me too, lad," Carson heartfelt agreed, suddenly deciding Danny was an ok chap if John liked him enough to ask him for a favor on his behalf. "Speaking of pain," and then he was pulling something out of his shirt pocket and rolling it across the table to John. "Go ahead and take a dose now."

Picking up the bottle of pain killer prescription, John began to ask, "I thought you thought I was taking these already so why do you have…."

"Because I know you so I got a backup supply of your prescription," Carson cockily supplied with a smile. "You tend to "forget" to take them or "misplace" the bottle. Truly if I believed you were that harebrained I would tell Dr. Weir she made a terrible mistake looking to you for any type of advice."

"Oh, he's that harebrained sometimes…" Rodney interjected.

"Hey, stop with the insults, already," Sheppard grumbled as he downed one pill but at his friends expectant look, he begrudgingly took another pill. Opened his mouth to show it empty before grousing, "See, down the hatch. Happy?"

"Getting closer," Ronon replied, taking a healthy swallow of his cold beer as John watched in envy.

Then there was more drinking, laughing, teasing and the general commotion they usually caused in the Atlantis Mess Hall, all without breaking their security protocols about life sucking aliens. After a while, Carson, Teyla and Rodney wandered over to the pool table, both men promising to teach Teyla the proper way to play pool.

John was surprised Ronon didn't want to join them. "I am ok sitting here by myself, you know."

Meeting his friend's gaze, Ronon replied, "I know," but there was a weight between them, like Ronon was waiting for John to tell him something. And Ronon wanting him to open up, it was a rare thing, meant, in John's experience, that Ronon was pretty worried about him. Sighing, John pushed his nearly full glass of Coke to the center of the table and leaned his elbows on the surface. "I know you heard what he said to me."

Ronon didn't verbally respond, simply sat back in his chair, waiting for John to say more. He was a patient man, knew he could outwait Sheppard if he had to, if it was important enough. And something in his gut wouldn't let this go, had to press Sheppard to talk to him. Knew that they were both soldiers, both warriors, could see things the same way that the others could not.

Accepting that they were doing this, talking about….things John never talked about, John turned his attention to the worn table, worried a finger in a knife scratch because his fight the other night was tame compared to others he had witnessed in this bar. When he began to speak his voice was low, meant to stay at the table between the two of them. "Last time I was stationed here, I was in a bad place." Hoped that was enough but when he looked over at Ronon, the man was still doing that patience watching him thing but now there was a crease in his brow of concern. "I just failed to save one of my best friends and was sitting around waiting to see if I was going to be court-martialed, dishonorably discharged or transferred to the worst base they could dump me in."

The information cleared up the picture for Ronon but made his jaw clench in angry grief for what John had been enduring long before they ever met, before either of them knew their respective planets even existed. "Your friend was worried about you. Did he have reason to be?"

And leave it to Ronon to cut through the crap and ask the one thing John didn't want to answer. Not truthfully anyway, not even to himself. But Ronon wasn't just anybody asking, was a friend, a brother, closer than even Danny or Winston or any of the others guys he had flown with had ever been. "No…maybe…" John answered before he felt ashamed that he was still skulking in the shadows. So a beat later, he admitted with raw honesty, "Probably," watching Ronon for disgust, the loss of the Satedan's respect for him but all he saw was concern and commiseration.

"He said he tried to help you…" Ronon prodded, wanted to know if that was true, if Danny deserved the loyalty John was showing to him.

John ran a hand through his hair, "He did. The friends at the mess hall you saw me with…they did too. But…." He didn't want to belittle his friends' efforts or their concerns but they hadn't been able to help him. Worse, he had railed against their good intentions, had been a royal jerk and it was a wonder any of them hadn't punched him today instead of seemingly being glad to see him. Agitated at those memories, he pulled the cigarette pack and lighter out of his jacket pocket, was in the process of digging out a cigarette when Ronon's hand grabbed his wrist.

"I won't sit by and watch you harm yourself," Ronon declared, eyes boring into Sheppard's.

"Come on, Beckett and Danny aren't watching. Besides, smoking is like a stubbed toe compared to my day job," John downplayed the vice but the uncompromising set to Ronon's features wasn't lightening up.

"I have never purposefully let you be harmed on a mission, this is no different." Because Ronon had seen enough Satedan warriors find dangerous ways to deal with the emotional cost of battle and he refused to sit back and watch Sheppard take even one step down such a path.

Hoping Ronon wasn't as serious about all this anti-smoking protest as he seemed, John tested the waters with a light toned countermove. "I could order you to stand down."

Ronon leaned over the table to draw closer to the Colonel so no one else could hear his insubordinate comeback. "You could…but Teyla taught me that we can decide not to follow your orders" left unsaid the qualifier on that disobedience of ' _if those orders aren't in Sheppard's best interest_.'

John felt his hackles being raised, hadn't expected the mutinous advice to come from Teyla. His voice tinged with dark warning, he drawled, "She did, did she."

Knowing that things were taking a deeper turn than he wished, Ronon explained the circumstances when that advice was given. "Yeah…when you ordered me to stay with her and you went off alone to take on Ellia. I think you were losing that battle before I got there," he cockily pointed out, but remembering how the Wraith girl with the retrovirus had John pinned to the ground, he knew his defiance of John's orders was not something he would apologize for. He only wished he had disobeyed sooner, had gotten there before John had been infected with the retrovirus.

"On the other hand, if you hadn't butted in she probably would have killed me and I would have skipped the whole turning into a bug man nightmare. Gotta say option 1 has its appeal." Because John still had nightmares about that, hurting Elizabeth, fighting hard to not attack Teyla and Ronon, being a threat to all of Atlantis, not to mention losing himself to the iratus bug's mindset.

Furious at Sheppard's joking tone that tried to belie his friend's underlining genuine statement, Ronon slammed his hand down on John's cigarette pack, totally flattening every last cigarette.

"Hey!" John protested at the destruction.

But Ronon only fisted the pack in his hands, his eyes searing into Sheppard's. "Don't you ever talk as if your death is preferable to your survival." Would not let Sheppard think his death was acceptable to him, to any of them, no matter the circumstances.

"Calm down," John gently urged, surprised Ronon was getting so upset. "You're taking all this a little too seriously today. You all are. Is it something in the Earth air…"

Unwilling to let John dismiss his words, Ronon growled, "No, I think I'm not taking things seriously enough." Because John's earlier confession, it was hitting him hard, made him remember his own experiences with such feelings of despair and self-hatred. "You forget, I know what it's like to fail, to lose people I care about, that I swore to protect, to be torn from my home."

Instantly John disputed Ronon's belief that he had the right to feel anywhere near the depth that Ronon had. "My situation hardly compares to yours. I know the extent of what you lost…in comparison..heck, there is no comparison to the little pity party I threw myself."

"You are allowed to be human, to admit to being in pain," Ronon insisted but John was shaking his head, and he knew the man would never agree that he wasn't weak for faltering under the weight of all he had endured. Switching tactics, Ronon revealed what was in his heart but he had never spoken aloud, to Sheppard or anyone else. "You freed me from running for my life, gave me a home when mine was destroyed, offered a family to replace the one I lost. After all that I owe you…"

"You don't owe me a thing," John protested, would not let Ronon think he needed to repay him back. If anything, John knew he should be thanking Ronon for trusting him, staying, joining his team, didn't honestly know how they would have survived without him on mission after mission.

But Ronon would never forget what Sheppard had done for him when his life was at its bleakest point. And now, for the first time, it felt like he had a way to give that gift back in a small measure. "Whatever lengths your friends here were willing to go to make sure you were alright, I will go 1000% more. And so will McKay, Teyla, Weir and Beckett."

Trying hard to not get overwhelmed at Ronon's earnest statement, John's voice was a little hoarse when he asked, "And if I say I'm 1000% ok?"

There was no judgement in Ronon's reply, only concern. "If that were true, you would have beat the men who attacked you instead of being the one wounded most, would have told us you were in the hospital and you wouldn't have been here drinking with a concussion and smoking something that's harmful to you."

Drawing on a smile, John tried to cajole his friend to drop his worried lecturing, "I'm on vacation. Maybe all that is what I do for fun on my vacation."

Ronon didn't miss a beat in telling John what he thought of that notion. "If that's true, you're never having another vacation. Ever."

"Funny, you taking lessons from McKay," John grumbled.

"Lessons on what?" Rodney asked, reclaiming his seat at the table followed by Teyla and Carson.

John held Ronon's gaze, wondered if the man would keep their conversation private.

Smirking, his eyes holding John's, Ronon gave in answer. "Nagging Sheppard to take care of himself." Then he let the crumpled cigarette packet in his fist fall to the table. Of course that evidence had John being sicced on by his friends.

"What did I bloody tell you about smoking! I could give you the statics and you'd be horrified…" That was from Carson.

"Oh, smart, Sheppard. You know that story about outrunning a bear…you don't have to be the fastest runner just faster than your friend…well the wraith will gladly catch your slow friend and you if you're busy coughing up a lung instead of running for your life." Yup, Mckay should work for the advocates against smoking.

Teyla was again taking the more gentle approach. "John, Carson has explained to me the ill effects of smoking tobacco and I wish that you would refrain from that habit. I can provide some soothing herbs that you can smoke that have been known to improve an ill person's breathing."

John was about to politely decline Teyla's offer for him to partake of their tribe's herbal peace pipe when Danny's irate voice cut across the din of the bar.

"After the crap you pulled, you think you're welcome here. Get out."

With dread, John turned around, already knowing who Danny was trying to refusal serve to: his good old pal Hawkins.

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TBC

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Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews and support and silent readers out there!

As I said, there's one more chapter to go and I could be persuaded to get that chapter up this week, even though I'll be sad to see this story end! You have really made this fandom a joy to write for and I love sharing my stories with all of you!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	7. No Takebacks

Two Sides

Author: Cheryl W.

Author's Note: Originally when I wrote the ending of this story, Hawkins didn't make an appearance but I felt cheated. So I worked it again and now you have some Hawkins closure. Hope you enjoy.

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Chapter 7: No Takebacks

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As expected, Hawkins wasn't about to listen to Danny.

"For what, fighting? If you banned everyone who picked a fight in here you'd have to ban all your best customers," Hawkins tried to coax Danny, making to go around him but Danny put his hand on Hawkins' chest, halting him.

Getting into Hawkins' face, Danny growled, "You took it too far."

"I'll pay for the damages, like I always do," Hawkins offered, his tone turning humble.

Not wanting Danny to harm his friendship with Hawkins or ostracize all the Navy Seals that frequent his bar because of him, John knew he had to intervene, hoped he didn't make matters worse. Standing, he started forward, surprised to find Ronon at his side.

"That the guy?" Ronon demanded, already sizing up Hawkins, glad to see that Sheppard had gotten in a few good hits evident by the man's black eye, cut lip and stiff way he was moving. But that in no way paid the man back for the damage he had inflicted on Sheppard.

John didn't expect Ronon's tone, a tone the Satedan usually reserved for when they were in that 'do or die', 'take out as many wraith as they could' situations. He was about to tell the other man to stay at the table, would make it an order if he had to when Hawkins spotted him over Danny's shoulder.

Cursing, Hawkins seared Danny with a disgusted glare. "That's why you wanted me out of here, huh? To protect your good buddy. Why didn't you ban him from your bar?!"

At that recrimination, Danny felt his reign on his temper slip and he shoved Hawkins, causing the SEAL to stumble back a step. "John wasn't the jackass who started the fight!" He gave Hawkins another harder shove. "And you just had to tag team your friends into it!" His next shove had Hawkins tripping back against the bar as he rancorously accused, "Then you and your friends decided sucker punching my brother was fair play!"

Sensing that Hawkins was done taking Danny's abuse, was about to swing on him, John dodged forward as fast as he could with his rib issues but he still wasn't fast enough to get between the two men. Not before Ronon did. Hawkins, to his credit, came up short, didn't try to barge through the wall of Ronon to get to Danny. But he wasn't smart enough to curb his tongue, he never was.

Realizing the hulking man in front of him was with Sheppard, Hawkins ignored both Ronon and Danny and focused on his favorite target: John. "This is pathetic even for you, Sheppard. Couldn't handle losing again so you thought you'd bring your WWE pal to protect you. Just goes to prove what I already knew: you're a coward."

Never expecting the Satedan would try and protect his honor, John's only warning of the impending disaster was Ronon's growl. John hastily threw his arm out in front of Ronon to block the man's advance toward Hawkins but he misjudged the tall man's reach. Without having to overrule John's restrictive stance, Ronon's right fist easily reached Hawkins, smashed into the SEAL's cheek like a battering ram. Then Hawkins was down on the ground, dazed, shaking his head to fight off unconsciousness.

"Ah crap," John muttered because this was not the way to simmer Hawkins down. Then there was Ronon to cool off. Turning his back on Hawkins, John stepped into Ronon's path, trusted his friend to not barrel him over to get to Hawkins, well, not when Ronon knew he was hurt, was sporting a concussion and a broken rib. Hand pressed against Ronon's chest, John snapped, "Ronon!" waited until his friend tore his murderous look from Hawkins and faced him before he said, "I got this…just…go order another beer."

"I'm not going anywhere," Ronon steely defied Sheppard's suggestion, couldn't believe John thought he would stand back and let the other man disrespect him or get a chance to hurt him again. Neither was happening, not while he was there to defend Sheppard. ' _Like I should have been here to do yesterday'_ he guiltily thought, knew he wasn't the only one vowing to do better by Sheppard when the others joined his defensive line.

About to make it an order for Ronon to walk away, John realized he would have to extend it to Rodney, Teyla and Carter too because they were now flanking Ronon, each wearing their own personalized pissed off expression. "I can handle this," he growled, his eye contact searing into his gathered teammates so they all got the message even as he wondered when he suddenly became the bullied geek in this scenario who needed rescued. A second later, McKay proved he wasn't just imagining his friends' lack of faith that he could take care of himself against Hawkins.

"Well, excuse me, but I can't say I'm impressed with how you handled it _yesterday_ ," Rodney scathingly drawled because he still believed in his heart of hearts that Sheppard hadn't fought as hard as he could have. That his friend could have still bested Hawkins, and the buddies he had along…if Sheppard had wanted to. And it seemed to prove his theory that, even now, Sheppard was stopping Ronon from wiping the floor with the Navy SEAL jerk. And that pissed Rodney off, that, for whatever reason, John had let this man hurt him yesterday. Heck, he suspected Sheppard would probably let a repeat happen if they weren't there to intervene. But they were there. And Rodney would be damned if Hawkins got in the last word, had felt like he got a punch to the gut when Hawkins dared to call John a coward, freaking _John Sheppard_ a coward!? That insult had had Rodney itching for it to be his fist hitting Hawkin's face instead of Ronon's. Except, well, fighting wasn't really his forte and Ronon's fist was like getting hit by a truck. That was, of course, an observation not an experience, as the man had never hit him, thank goodness.

"Like I keep saying, there were two other guys yesterday!" John testily defended himself once again to Rodney.

"You got off easy," Hawkins bitterly interjected, eyes boring into John's from his position still on the floor. Wiping the blood from his lips, though it still stained his teeth, he used a chair to accomplish the task of climbing to his feet.. "You and I both know you deserve much worse." Because he didn't care if an army backed Sheppard, he knew the truth about the man, and ached to make him pay in the same ways his SEAL friends had.

Refusing to allow this man free reign to continue to tear down John's honor, Teyla broke ranks and defiantly came toe to toe with Hawkins. She had seen the look that shone in this man's eyes in others, of rage that sought to inflict as much pain on others as they felt. Knew that the man ached to strike out at John, to hurt him for whatever harm he thought John had done to him. "If you try to harm John again, it will be you who will be harmed. And I guarantee you, it will be worse than what John suffered at your hands yesterday."

"Now you're hiding behind a woman, Sheppard?" Hawkins scoffed, foolishly dismissing Telya as a non threat. "You lost, fair and square yesterday but now you bring this freak show to try and what? Defend your honor? As if you have any."

When even Beckett joined the fray, John cursed, knew he was losing control of this situation…if he ever had it.

"You bloody bastard! When has three to one odds, a baseball bat and a kick to the head been considered a fair fight?!" Then John found himself having to block Beckett from getting closer to Hawkins. Didn't the doctor know Hawkins was a highly trained killer?! Didn't any of them get that! And all this, it was like poking a tiger….or you know, Ronon.

Horrified, Rodney repeated Carson's depiction of the brutal fight scene. "Baseball bat….kick to the head," Stunned at the revelation of just how Sheppard had gotten his injuries, he suddenly felt his blood boil and he bit out his scathing insult as he too confronted Sheppard's antagonist. "I expect if anyone's honor is in question, it's yours.. You accuse others of what you realize is a failing of yours. Typical response, really. Sheppard being a coward…having no honor, we aren't talking about him, are we? We are talking about _you_."

Enraged at McKay's insinuations, Hawkins tried to clock Rodney with a right cross but Teyla swept Hawkins' legs out from him even as John yanked Rodney backwards out of the Navy Seal's swing range. Even as Hawkins was trying to spring off the floor where Teyla's leg sweep had landed him, Teyla smashed her elbow into Hawkins' jaw causing the man to find himself on the ground again. Slipping behind him, Teyla pinned Hawkins' arm behind his back, pulled it hard enough to elicit a surprised groan of pain from the soldier. "Stay down or I will break your arm and not feel any regret," Teyla threatened, pressing her knee into Hawkins' back for good measure.

"Whoa whoa! Everyone just take a breath!" John finally managed to command his team, hand pressing to Ronon's chest again to deter the man from going after Hawkins while his other hand still clutched the back of Rodney's shirt. But when tensions didn't seem to deflate, he growled, "And that's a damn order! Teyla…let him up." But she didn't obey him, looked mutinously up at him until he tersely warned, "This is not one of those times where you can decide to not obey me for my own good."

Shooting an annoyed look to Ronon for apparently telling John her theory on when it was ok to disobey the Colonel's orders, Teyla gave Hawkins' arm one more final jerk which had the man crying out before she fluidly stood up, stepped over him and came to flank John. When Hawkins finally staggered to his feet, he was faced with an impenetrable wall of Sheppard's friends.

Joining the ranks beside Ronon, Danny faced Hawkins. Though most times he considered Hawkins a good friend, Danny knew they were on opposite sides right then, that Hawkins had to get his head out of his butt and face the painful truth no one wanted to say. Until now, until Danny felt it had to be said, no matter if it helped or hurt the situation.

"Hawkins, John followed his **orders** ," Danny bluntly reminded his thick headed friend. "Just like the rest of us always did. We did what we were trained to do, what we thought was the right thing to do. I had orders to go to an LZ, regardless of the heavy fire, and I went. My bird got shot down, my co-pilot was killed on impact and my leg got torn apart by shrapnel and coper metal. I can piss and moan about that but I did what was needed of me, ordered of me. And you and John both had orders to stand down until the rescue op for your teammates was a go…you both obeyed, waited for command to green light the mission. None of us can know if either of you could have saved your guys if you went earlier. We won't ever know. There are no do overs…no matter if we want one or not. And it wasn't your call or Sheppard's either way. Just like it wasn't mine to take fire, lose one of my best friends and be crippled the rest of my life." At that blunt statement, Hawkins had the grace to pale in shame and John shifted on his feet. Danny pretended he didn't notice either man's reaction as he stepped forward to meet Hawkins man to man, friend to friend, soldier to soldier. "Damn it Dale, we all just did our jobs, we followed orders, we served the country we love and protected our freedoms, our home the best we knew how. I did that, you did that, John did that. You and John are still doing that. And we are alive to honor those we lost, so stop belittling their sacrifice. They don't deserve that disrespect from any of us and you know that."

Hawkins had gone stiff, his eyes holding Danny's as the other soldier's words sank in. Then something flickered in the man's eyes and his shoulders slumped and his anger…was overshadowed by shame. Silently he gave a respectful nod to Danny, acknowledging the other man's words had gotten though. Then his eyes went to John and John and his friends alike stiffened, tensed for the man's next venomous volley of insults…that never came. Without a word, the Navy Seal turned away from John and made his way out the door, leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.

And John felt as shaken as Hawkins had looked. Danny had laid it all bare and it hurt, it burned, it drudged up truths and it …somehow healed too. Regardless of the anger and guilt between them, he and Hawkins were still trying to live up to the codes of the military, of their beliefs, to protect their home and the people they cared about. It didn't matter John was doing it in another galaxy or that they had both been broken by their combined failure in the past. At their core, they were fighting for the same thing and that had to mean something. Just like what Danny sacrificed, what Hawkins' teammates had sacrificed meant something that they had to honor. And John knew what Hawkins had figured out too, that inflicting pain on each other in some vain attempt to bury the old pain was no way to honor their fellow soldiers, their military branches or the country they both loved. The past was over, neither one of them could change it. It was time to let it be scars they carried, of lessons hard won and mistakes not to be repeated, by either of them.

For John Sheppard's friends, pieces were starting to come together to form a better picture of the man they all so loyally followed. They now knew what motivated Sheppard's motto to not leave anyone behind, to act quickly when lives were in jeopardy, and, on occasion, buck orders and do whatever he could to try and save someone. John was trying to right a wrong he thought he had done, to not fail in the same way again, to not have another Hawkins blaming him for lives under his care being lost.

Danny, knowing that John tended to be a very private person, belatedly realized that had carelessly revealed things that the other man might have chosen not to be shared with their current spectators. Crossing over to his friend, Danny hurriedly apologized, "John, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to air out things you didn't want to…" and he kept his eyes on John, didn't let them waver to John's gathered friends.

"It's fine," John dismissed, also purposefully not looking to any of his friends, didn't want to try and read their expression to everything Hawkins had said about him, let alone Danny's recap of his past. But then Teyla, always the tactful one, was herding the others away. When he was left alone with Danny, John said, "You said the truth, whether Hawkins or I wanted to hear it or not."

Deciphering the implications between John's statement, Danny gave a shake of his head at his friend's bullheadedness. "You rather believe you could have saved them if you went earlier than to believe you never had a chance at all to save them, no matter when you went, don't you?"

"I like the version where there was hope," John openly admitted with raw sorrow, but then he cut off whatever Danny wanted to say to cheer him up. "But like you said, there are no do overs." And Atlantis was teaching him that lesson all over again, in harsher ways, for bigger stakes.

Sensing that he hadn't lifted any weight from his friend but somehow added to it, Danny reached out, grabbed John's arm and forced the man to take his next words seriously. "No do overs but you shouldn't do any take backs either. You shouldn't lock yourself down because Holland, Dix and Mitch died, or your worthless dad and brother cared more about stock market gains than you. These people with you, they care about you and it's obvious that they will stand with you come hell or high water…." but then Danny's serious face morphed into a teasing smirk, "or, you know, the really scary stuff like going up against school yard bullies."

John laughed at that one. "You're still the same old jerk."

"Yup and I'll be around if you need a piss poor pep talk but honestly, after seeing your new comrades in arms in action..." He jerked his chin to the table of John's friends, "I know I can stop worrying about you. They'll take care of you better than me and Winston and the crew here ever could."

John felt himself blush in embarrassment at Danny's sentiment, that he had been worrying about him. "Danny…"

But Danny shook his head, gave John's chest a pat and with a smile ordered, "Go be with your friends, John. They seem a little lost without you." Then Danny walked away and John turned, saw that his friends were pretending to not watch him and Danny but failing miserably at the deception. ' _With bad actors like them as my supporting players, no wonder all my bluffs get blown,_ ' he groused but he was fighting hard not to grin ear to ear as he made his way back to his friends.

In a show of greeting him back to their fold, Rodney pushed his coke in front of him, Teyla gave him a concerned assessing look as if she was making sure that Danny hadn't said anything to upset him. As for Carson, he was giving him that doctor once over. Then there was Ronon who was staring off at the empty pool table, acting like he didn't even register Sheppard had returned to the table.

It was not surprising to John that McKay couldn't handle the silence, was the one to break it first. Rodney's inquiry, however, was full of unveiled concern.

"You ok?" Rodney earnestly questioned, because he had learned to see behind John's "I'm fine"s, his jokes and smiles. Knew they were a smoke screen to the man's pain, guilt and doubts that he refused to openly share, regardless that Rodney would guard John's vulnerabilities almost more fervently than he would his own. Not to mention, Rodney probably knew better than anyone how John would twist all this around, would do something stupid like believe he _deserved_ Hawkins' hatred, never his absolution, anyone's absolution. Accepting that Sheppard would probably brush his concern off but didn't stop Rodney from being concerned, from caring, for wishing John just once trusted him to be vulnerable, to say he wasn't ok, trusted all of them enough to know they wouldn't exploit his pain but do everything they could to take it away.

And there McKay was again, surprising John with the depth of the man's concern for him, his obvious regard for him and value he placed on their friendship.

Still, John almost brushed off the question with a smart aleck deflection but then he noticed all eyes on him, even Ronon had given up his pretense of detachment. And Danny's words came to him, that he could trust his friends to be there for him. But he already knew that. They had proven that so many times in the past two years, and not just when it came to his life being in jeopardy, but worse times..when he failed, when he was weak. And somehow they had not thought less of him, not once. So he took a risk, didn't do a take back, didn't retreat behind his walls, instead admitted wearily, "Honestly…it's been a pretty crappy vacation so far."

"Yeah, for us too," Rodney candidly admitted, honoring John's surprising, if not depressing, admission of the truth with some of his own because the whole 'thinking John was tired of being his friend', it had sucked. Really bad. Looking around the ring of his friends, he knew Teyla and Ronon agreed whole heartedly with him. Even Carson looked like he hadn't gotten much sleep on this "vacation" of theirs. "Think we can do something together tomorrow that doesn't involve misunderstandings, bar fights, or you getting hurt," he asked of John, voice full of rare, not over the top but earnest entreaty for John's agreement to those specific terms.

"I don't know, McKay, that sounds really boring," John drawled in mocking protest.

"Boring sounds heavenly to me," Carson countered.

"Yeah, you wanted to show us that big hole in the ground," Ronon reminded John, purposefully making it sound lame when he knew John thought the hole was awesome.

"Not a big hole…a canyon…the grand canyon. Full of colors and ….ridges and …" John stammered, trying to defend the natural treasure before grumbling, "You'll like it when you see it."

"And you said you liked…what is it again…ferris …rolls," Teyla got in on the action, but she couldn't hold back her smirk as John glowered at her attempt to mispronounce one of his favorite things.

"Ferris wheels..and yes, I know where there is one. A really big one," John began to gush, smile turning up his lips and lighting up his eyes.

"Ah, have I mentioned I'm not a fan of heights?" McKay interjected before he tried to justify his fear. "Sheppard, you do realize the statics of fatalities in both of your planned activities is quiet high. I read once that in one year the Grand Canyon…"

"I'm game," Carson cut across Rodney's statistics. Honesty, he, didn't care if Colonel Jack O'Neill himself wanted a briefing from him tomorrow, he was going to take a real vacation with his friends, no, his family. "Honestly, anything beats having to deal with any you-know-whats trying to suck the life out of us, trying to figure out the weird goings on with somebody's molecules, and having to deal with patients stubbornly disobeying every good piece of advice I give them," he pointedly looked John's way on that last one.

But it wasn't John who reacted to that intended slam but Ronon. "You're out of luck on that last one, doc. Guess next vacation you have to remember to not bring your worst patient along with you."

"Oh, funny. Come on, Rodney's way worse than I am," John disputed, pointing to McKay, who instantly denied it.

"I am not. When have I ever plotted an escape from the infirmary?" Rodney demanded, eyebrow raised demanding Carson to just try and deny his claim.

"Believe me, I wish you had a time or two. I would have helped you plan it, more than once," Carson muttered under his breath causing Teyla, Ronon and John to erupt into laughter.

"Hey, we are supposed to be picking on Sheppard, not me," Rodney reminded the gathered group.

"We can multitask," Carson assured. That set McKay and Beckett into bickering at each other about whose profession made them better at multitasking. Teyla only smiled at their antics and kept quiet but gave John's arm a squeeze, like she was reassuring herself he was there, wasn't going anywhere.

Ronon shot a smirk to John, both of them enjoying not being the focus of either man's sharp tongue. And though he'd never had a "vacation", Ronon thought maybe this was the start of a really good one. Because it certainly felt like a gift, this joyous feeling of all of them being together. Especially after all the misunderstanding of the last two days that had seemed to signal the end of what he realized he treasured most about Atlantis: being around the people he cared about. As Beckett and McKay continued bickering, Ronon leaned over toward Sheppard, whispered, "Just think, you almost missed all of this fun."

"Yeah, who wants a quiet drink at the bar, have some beautiful women fawning over my bruises. Now that would have been really terrible," John drily bemoaned. But Ronon wasn't buying it, shot a beaming smile at his friend before, in a rare show of affection, he gave the base of John's neck a companionable squeeze. It earned him a nod of 'right back at ya, buddy' and a smirk from John. And Ronon knew Sheppard just had to face it. He and the others were sticking by John's side. And, thank the Ancestors, John was starting to learn to stop running away from the very idea of how much he was truly valued. All it took for this to happen was the near destruction of their makeshift family. Next time Ronon vowed to simply stun Sheppard into submission if he started to doubt his place with them. It would be easier on all of them. Well, maybe not on Sheppard's body but he'd shake it off. And if something came along Sheppard couldn't shake off, Ronon would be there to carry him, Teyla would offer him counsel, Rodney would challenge him to keep fighting and Carson would patch him up. Together they would do their best to keep John safe, even from himself. That's just what families did in Ronon's book.

John felt contentment settle over him as Carson and Rodney tallied their college degrees, years of study, specialties to prove who was more superior. Finally he allowed himself to accept that this was where he was supposed to be, who he was supposed to be with. Realized that he was not the same man who had been losing himself by leaps and bounds under the crushing weight of despair and failure in this very town three years ago. Though his world had to be turned upside down in ways he couldn't have ever predicted for it to happen, a change had been wrought in him. Atlantis had changed him, but more significantly, these people had changed him. He wasn't lost anymore. Knew who he was, that he mattered to these people, more than he ever thought he would matter to anyone. And his home, it wasn't a place, wasn't even Atlantis, it was wherever his friends were. And right now, he was home and there wasn't a better feeling than that in any two galaxies.

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The end

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Words aren't enough to thank all my generous reviewers! Without every word you wrote, this story wouldn't have found a nice home on ffnet, would have been stashed on my computer for my eyes only. I truly appreciated your kindness and encouragement as I ventured further into this awesome world of Stargate Atlantis!

Until next time…..

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


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